


The Take Over, The Break's Over

by tegary



Series: A Bottled Star [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Berserkr Thor, Breeding Kink, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Loki, If You Squint - Freeform, Lady Loki, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Not Canon Compliant, Now it does, Oops, Past Mpreg, Post-Ragnarok, Sibling Incest, Slice of Life, Tony Stark Redemption, Written before the movie, i keep losing track of all the characters, i suppose there's a little stony, infinity war fix-it, loki might be a witch, nobody can resist noma, ridiculous baby shenanigans, the boys are parents, wasn't supposed to have a plot, who is antman 2k18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 67,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tegary/pseuds/tegary
Summary: --"As light pours in the entrance, Loki braces himself for what is to come."A look into the lives of King Thor, Queen Loki, Princess Noma, and their people after they land on Midgard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a series! While it could probably be understood on its own, more will make sense if you read its predecessor, Hold Me Tight (Or Don't), first. 
> 
> This chapter is working under the assumption that Thanos magically gives the team time to get back together and talk everything out before he attacks. Obviously, there’s a 99.999% chance that won’t actually happen in Infinity Wars, but I wanted to get the reactions of at least the main Avengers! That was going to be hard to do if they weren’t all in the same place. Sorry if I left out any of your favorites! Also, this chapter in no way is meant to be a fix-it for Civil War. It’s going to be horrifically canon non-compliant, and I’m sorry for that!!
> 
> Y'ALL. There is art for this fic now, courtesy of the lovely assgardianroses on tumblr (darkpixel here on ao3). Please go check it out and leave the artist lots of love!! Their art is really spectacular, and how they've drawn Noma is 100% how I envision her.  
> https://assgardianroses.tumblr.com/post/170425699399/fanart-promised-long-ago-of-the-fic-the-take

“And that’s how we ended up here,” Thor finishes with a shrug of his shoulders. They’re sitting in the vast meeting room situated in the center of the compound, surrounded by Thor’s earthly chums. Loki notes that he recognizes most of them: Stark and Banner, obviously, but also the woman they call Natasha, Hawkeye (whose gaze Loki has steadfastly been avoiding—he has some apologizing to do), and the Captain himself (who has grown a beard since Loki’s last seen him). Along with them sit a couple beings Loki does not recognize: next to Stark, in a wheel chair, sits a man that the inventor had called “Rhodes”. Similarly, by the Captain’s side is a man named Sam. Next to Sam, there’s a young woman with long, brown hair, and, beside her, a being Loki pegs as artificial: he’s in the shape of a human man, but his skin is a patchwork of unearthly colors. That’s not what Loki finds most peculiar about him, though: in the center of this man’s head (The Vision, Stark calls him), sits a canary-yellow gem that Loki is intimately familiar with. Loki startles to realize that this is the mind stone, the very same he’d used in his attack on New York prior. This Vision must be using the stone as its source of life-force.

The room is silent for a moment as its inhabitants seem to soak Thor’s story in. After a minute, though, Stark clears his throat and speaks up.

“Okay, if nobody else is gonna say it, I will,” He says, ignoring the firm reprimand of “Stark” that the Captain shoots his way.

“The last time we saw the Scar to your Mufasa, he was hell-bent on ruling humanity. Other than the fact that he’s just waltzed in to this meeting like he’s the Queen of England, there is also a child in his arms right now. Like, a baby-child. An infant.”

Loki blinks up from where he’s been holding Noma’s pacifier in to keep her from fussing, and he finds that every set of eyes in the room is on him. Again. He’s getting rather tired of this.

Loki tucks Noma, who is swaddled in a black blanket, closer to his chest. “You see, when a mommy Asgardian and a daddy Asgardian love each other very much,” He starts, hackles starting to raise. He’d only briefly pondered on the fact that once they landed on Midgard, Thor’s friends were going to find out about the baby.

Thor’s hand lands, warm and reassuring, on Loki’s arm. The trickster relaxes, but only a bit.

“This is my daughter, Noma,” Thor explains, and Stark blinks at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Your daughter?” Natasha asks after a moment. Thor nods and smiles warmly, chest puffed out like the proud father that he is.

“What happened to her mother? Did you lose her with the planet?” Clint pipes up from beside the Widow, and Natasha smacks him on the arm. She’s obviously already figured it out. Loki remembers liking her sharp wit when they first encountered each other.

“Oww,” Clint complains.

“I should hope not,” Loki replies airily, before pressing a kiss to Noma’s forehead. “It would certainly be a shock to realize I’ve actually been dead this entire year.”

Tony chokes on his coffee, and Bruce leans over to smack him on the back a couple times, amusement clear on his face. The Captain is obviously trying to control his facial expression, but shock still shows in the width of his eyes. There’s a harsh thud as Hawkeye jerks back, smacking his knees on the underside of the table in the process. He breathes out another “oww” as he looks to Natasha like she has all the answers.

The Vision and the girl next to him, who the Captain had called Wanda, exchange glances but seem mostly unaffected. Similar expressions adorn “Rhodes” and Sam’s faces. It makes sense, as they hadn’t been around to witness Loki’s attack on New York.

“You’re telling me, that you—“ And Tony swivels his chair to face Thor, “And you—“ He does the same to Loki, “Had a _baby?”_

“Yes,” Loki says with faux-patience, at the same time Thor bellows out an “indeed!”

“B-but you two are _brothers!”_ Stark exclaims.

“Adopted,” Thor points out, and Loki scrambles to catch Noma’s pacifier as she spits it out. The man called Rhodes catches it and holds it out to Loki, who takes it with a grateful nod.

“Okay, ignoring the fact that it’s still weird, how about the fact that your not-brother is male?”

“The baby fell out of the sky,” Loki quips at him. “In Asgard, if you pray for a baby, sometimes Freyr will just drop one into your arms.”

“Seriously?” Tony actually looks like he’s considering it, and Natasha sighs from across the table.

“It’s a good thing some of us actually listen during briefings. Loki is a being called a Frost Giant. Their kind are intersex. I’m assuming that means that he can carry a baby.”

“Why isn’t she your leader,” Loki mumbles under his breath, and Thor squeezes his arm a bit in warning.

“There is an aspect to Loki’s and my shared past that I did not disclose to you when we first fought together,” Thor explains, leaning over so that he may wrap an arm around Loki and bring him closer. “For that, I am sorry. I meant no deception, my friends. He and I have shared each other’s beds many a time. And it has been centuries since I have loved him as only a brother.” Loki closes his eyes as Thor leans close and brushes their noses together, drawing a soft, happy coo from their daughter between them. When he pulls back, Wanda’s eyes have softened, and Loki knows they’ve brought one to their side. He suspects the Vision will soon follow, if how he’s looking at Wanda is any indication. 

“Loki is the reason that my people are still alive today. His assistance in defeating Hela was paramount in their survival.”

“I know none of you have any reason to trust me,” Loki speaks up, tucked into Thor’s side. “But I’ve decided that I’d like to be more than just the god of mischief. My loyalty lies with my family, and with my people. Thusly, I will be acting on their best interests.”

“As any Queen should,” Thor says warmly, and Stark makes another noise of distress.

“ _Queen?”_

“Ah, and another thing,” Thor says sheepishly. “We are married.”

“You knew about this,” Tony accuses Bruce after he’s done having what looked like a mild panic attack.

“That, I did,” Bruce says with a smile, not looking guilty in the slightest.

The other members of the Avengers turn to bicker amongst themselves for a moment, and Loki lets Thor bring him close, tucking Noma softly between them.

“Give them time,” Thor murmurs to him, low, so that only Loki can hear. “You proved your intent to the people. You can do the same here.”

“Diplomacy is exhausting, sometimes,” Loki sighs, and Thor huffs a chuckle before dipping to brush their lips together.

“’Don’t be a brute, Thor,’” Thor quotes at him, voice pitched higher to imitate Loki’s. “’Try talking to someone for once before throwing punches.’”

“Your friends will certainly never trust me if I stab you in front of them,” Loki bites at Thor’s lower lip, but his tone is playful.

Noma squirms between them and gives a quiet gurgle, and Thor takes her so that he can carefully hold her up in the air, moving her about in flying motions. Their daughter’s face splits into a wide smile and she laughs, bright and joyful. It’s in moments like these that Loki thinks Noma looks the most like her father. Loki rests his cheek on Thor’s shoulder and watches fondly, making faces when Noma’s wide brown eyes seek him out.

“Well that’s just sickening,” Stark says after a moment, and Loki looks up to see all of Thor’s friends watching them. Stark’s eyes have softened, though, and he’s relaxed back in his chair.

“We’ll…he can stay,” The Captain says, and Loki didn’t know that kicking him out was on the table. “But if we have any indication that he’s back to his old ways…”

“You won’t,” Loki says succinctly, before rising. “Finish up here,” He says to Thor, accepting the babe from his husband’s arms. “I’m going to go check on our people.”

Loki thinks he hears Tony mutter something about being “Loki-whipped” to Thor as he leaves.

The Asgardians have been ferrying items and belongings in and out of the ship all day, transferring them into the couple of large rooms that Stark has set them up in until they can find a more permanent solution. Loki stops to talk to Heimdall, who has been overseeing the endeavor.

“How did it go?” The gatekeeper asks, passing a crate along to one of the healers. He’s warmed to Loki recently, and Loki trusts the man implicitly. Though loyal to the crown, Loki has seen Heimdall work his way around orders many a time for the sake of what’s best for the people. He had never expressly _defied_ Odin’s wishes. Though it sounds a little ironic, Loki likes a bit of treachery in his advisers. It’s an effective power check, and Loki finds those types of people often have creative and innovative ideas to share.  

“Well enough,” Loki drawls, easily catching Noma’s pacifier when she tries to spit it out again. “They’re going to let me stay, which was apparently not a given.”

“Do you blame them?” Heimdall asks after a moment, a hint of a smile in those all-seeing golden eyes. Loki wipes Noma’s pacifier off on the bottom of his tunic before slipping it into his pocket.

“I’m going to prove my intent to them,” Loki says, twirling one of Noma’s golden curls around his finger to try and tame it. His daughter coos at him softly before squirming around a bit in his arms so that her face is tucked up against his chest.

“I don’t doubt it, your Majesty,” The gatekeeper replies, before giving Loki a nod and going back to his work.

Loki slips Noma into the sling he wears around his chest, rolls up his sleeves, and follows Heimdall back into the fray.

An hour or so later, Thor and the Captain find Loki with the babe secured to his chest and both of his arms full of supplies from the medical wing. Both men hurry to him and take the boxes from Loki, despite the trickster’s protests that he can more than handle it.

“All that’s left are the personal rooms,” Loki informs Thor after they’ve set the boxes in their proper place. Loki’s husband turns to him and grins, leaning down to press a kiss to both Loki’s lips and Noma’s soft forehead. “The cots Stark provided for us are enough for all the women and children, and we have enough blankets and pillows from the ship to suffice for the remaining citizens.”

Thor opens his mouth to say something before Loki feels a tap at his shoulder, and he turns to find a group of men behind him. Their arms are full of the remaining food from the ship.

“Where would you like these to go, your Majesty?” One of them asks, and Loki looks the contents of the crates over before directing them to a corner of the room opposite them. Three more groups approach him with questions before Loki makes his way back to Thor and the Captain, who have been talking quietly between themselves.

“It’s impressive how optimistic your people are,” The Captain notes, and Loki looks back over the Asgardians. Some are still carting crates and boxes off the ship, while others are sorting through items or setting up cots. Even more still are tending to the children bustling about in their first taste of fresh air in a year or helping the elderly with their meager belongings. It brings a smile to his face.

“It is an opportunity for a new start for many,” He says, turning back to Thor and the Captain. Rogers seems to look Loki over for a moment before his rigid stature relaxes somewhat.

“I don’t think I got a chance to properly introduce myself to the little lady,” The man says, and Loki blinks before realizing that he’s referring to Noma. Loki carefully lifts the babe from the sling across his chest, and she blinks up at him sleepily.

“This is Noma,” Loki says softly, and his daughter turns her doe-eyed gaze to the super soldier standing across from her. Loki has developed a hunch in the past three and a half months that his daughter could effectively bring peace to the realms by just smiling at their rulers. The way that the tension seems to drain from the line of Rogers’ shoulders only serves to bolster Loki’s hypothesis.

“Well hello there, Miss Noma,” Rogers says, taking a step closer. Loki had left before the others could explain to Thor what had been happening on Midgard since Thor’s departure, but the dark circles under Rogers’ eyes tell Loki enough. After deeming Rogers sturdy and presumably gentle enough, Loki carefully holds his daughter out towards him.

The man’s blue eyes widen. “Oh, really, I couldn’t—“

“Go ahead,” Loki says, and Rogers hesitates for a moment before reaching out and accepting the babe from Loki’s arms. She coos as Rogers brings her carefully to his chest, cradling her head to support her neck.

Noma blinks once, twice, before breaking into giggles. She reaches for Rogers’ beard, and Loki swears he sees a ghost of a smile cross the man’s face.

“She looks like you,” Rogers comments to Thor, letting Noma pat wildly at his cheeks. “And you,” He says as he turns back to Loki. “She’s lovely. You two are lucky parents.”

“We certainly know,” Thor beams proudly, and Loki takes Noma back when Rogers offers her.

Natasha and Clint are the next to approach. Loki figures they’ve gotten the go-ahead from Rogers, what with the Avengers seeming to be split in half, now. She, Clint, Sam, and the girl called Wanda all congregate around the Captain, while “Rhodes” and the Vision are more keen on listening to Stark. Loki honestly doesn’t care, much, though he does find the mortals’ drama quite tedious.

It’s well past midnight and Noma is absolutely refusing to sleep.  Loki has moved out into the main hallway to keep her cries from awakening others when he hears voices coming down the stairwell. Sighing, he shifts to the side and tucks Noma closer, bouncing and patting her on the rump in a way that usually works, but seems depressingly ineffectual in their current predicament.

“Need some help there?” Loki hears, and he turns to find the Widow and Hawkeye standing at the base of the stairs. They’ve both got towels about their necks, and Loki assumes they’ve just come from the training rooms.

“I’m sorry if we’re disturbing you,” Loki apologizes, and winces as Noma’s wails seem to rise a decibel or two. “She’s normally a good sleeper, she just won’t quiet down…this has never happened before…”

“Here,” Clint says, and holds his arms out. Loki, desperate for an answer, carefully hands her over.

Slowly, Clint turns Noma so she’s laying down one of his forearms on her stomach, at an angle towards the ground. The archer begins patting her back in circles, and, after a moment, Noma’s cries fade to silence.

Loki is gob-smacked. He watches, amazed, as Clint slowly rights Noma before cradling her to his chest. The babe’s eyelids droop sleepily, and within minutes, she’s out like a light.

“I have a few of my own,” Clint explains when he catches Loki’s bewildered expression. “That always worked when they were fussing.”

“Thank you,” Loki says, earnestly. “I’ll have to employ that technique in the future.”

Clint looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms, and a smile plays about his lips. “She’s a beautiful little girl,” He comments, thumbing one of Noma’s wild curls away from her forehead. “Makes me miss my own.”

“You mean Nathaniel-Natasha Jr.?” Natasha asks, and Clint gives a quiet laugh, careful of the dozing babe against his chest.

“I didn’t know you had children,” Loki says, and both of them look up at him. Clint looks a little uncertain, and Loki suddenly remembers that he’s _tortured_ this man in front of him before. The one who is holding Loki’s whole world in his arms.

“I…I have some apologizing to do,” Loki starts, but Clint holds up a hand.

“Don’t. Thor explained it to us, the whole Thanos thing, and…”

“Thanos or not, I hurt you. Mentally, physically. In ways that leave permanent scars,” Loki interrupts, and Clint looks down, no doubt remembering Loki inside of his head, twisting and pulling until right was left and up was down. “It makes me sick to think that I violated your mind as such. No-one deserves to have to suffer that pain,” And Loki shudders, because he remembers that pain himself, remembers it _viscerally._ “And though I know that it will do nothing to heal those hurts, I apologize.”

“…Thank you,” Clint says after a moment, and Natasha gives his shoulder a little squeeze. “Thank you. That’s good to hear.” He passes Noma back to Loki, who accepts her gratefully.

“I hope she sleeps well for you,” Clint says as he turns to leave, and Natasha gives Loki an approving smile over her shoulder.

“I want my chance to hold her sometime soon,” She says in way of parting, and Loki just chuckles and gives her a nod.

That chance comes two days later. Loki is out in the courtyard watching over the children whilst Thor and some of the other adults are beginning to help Stark with renovations to the complex. Stark is planning on building an entire wing off the north side of the building so as to accommodate the Asgardians for the foreseeable future.

“Taavi, don’t play too rough,” Loki calls out, and hears a chuckle to his left. He turns his head to see Natasha approaching, and she settles down on the grassy knoll next to him.

“A little rambunctious, aren’t they?” She comments, and Loki snorts a bit.

“They did spend an entire year cooped up in a space ship,” He points out mildly, catching some of Noma’s drool on today’s spit rag and cleaning around her mouth and cheeks delicately. “I’m fairly surprised that they aren’t _more_ rambunctious.”

“It’s nice to have kids around,” The Widow leans back on her hands, watching the children chase each other to and fro about the meadow. “It’s been fairly…quiet, here, for a while. Gloomy.”

Loki looks at her out of the corner of his eye. As the days have gone by, he’s begun to learn more and more about what’s happened to the Avengers since Thor’s departure, of the fight that ultimately tore them apart. “I wonder how long it will be before you regret that statement?” He asks wryly, and she looks over at him before laughing.

“Probably not long.” Her gaze shifts to the babe in Loki’s arms, and she tips her head a bit. “May I…?”

There’s some odd lift to her voice that Loki can’t place, but he sees no harm in letting her hold Noma. He reaches over first to drape the spit-rag over Natasha’s shoulder before carefully settling the baby in her arms, grateful for the chance to sit back and stretch out his body.

Natasha is silent for a while. Loki lays back against the grassy hill they’re situated on and closes his eyes, just taking in the warm sunshine against his skin. Though he is more of a creature of the night, Loki _has_ just spent the good end of a year cooped up on a ship where the only light he received was distantly cosmic or artificial. He supposes a little indulgence can be allowed.

“Her eyes,” He hears Natasha speak after a while, and Loki blinks and looks up at her. She’s cradling his daughter with such a heartbreakingly _tender_ look upon her face, one that is painted with loss and regret and yearning all in one. It ties Loki’s stomach in knots.

“They’re her grandmother’s,” says Loki as he sits up, suddenly uneasy. It’s not that he fears for his daughter, it’s that he feels some sort of odd, kindred hurt in his own heart that mirrors that in the Widow’s eyes. He knows what it is to want for something terribly, to the very marrow of his bones, only to have it snatched cruelly away like whispers on the wind.

“They’re beautiful,” and Natasha draws a soft thumb over the markings that spread from Noma’s chin, swirling up her nose into delicate, high whorls that Loki knows to be signature of Jötunar royalty. “And these…?”

“Jötunar,” Loki replies easily, before his eyebrows furrow. “Er, Frost Giant, as it were. Each of my kind has unique markings, though some are passed down matrilineally. These here on Noma’s brow mirror mine.” And Loki gestures to his forehead, though he knows it to be smooth and peach-hued currently.

Natasha’s thumb follows its path before it ends at the pout of Noma’s lower lip, and she laughs a bit when the babe opens her mouth to latch. “I see Thor here,” She comments, before carefully freeing her thumb. “And I think this one might be hungry.”

It almost pains Loki to take his daughter back from the woman’s arms. Her eyes are heavy as she stands, obviously wanting to give Loki some privacy as he feeds his child.

“Ah, Natasha?” He says, and the name sounds foreign on his tongue. She looks back at him over her shoulder.

“I hate to ask this of you, but I’ve to run council tonight, and Thor will be mapping out schematics with Stark until late. If you’ve some free time, would you consider watching Noma for me for a while? I’ll make sure you have everything you could need.”

She doesn’t smile, though there’s a faint uptick at the corner of Natasha’s mouth that Loki doesn’t miss. She huffs and looks from side to side, as if what Loki is asking her will be a chore, before shrugging.

“Sure, I suppose I could watch her for a couple hours.”

Loki also doesn’t miss the way her eyes lighten before she heads back inside.

Life seems to settle slowly back into a somewhat predictable pattern. Stark has set Eldotta up with supplies for the children, and Loki often passes Noma to Thor in the mornings so that he may help give the lessons. This may or may not be because Loki finds it utterly endearing to watch Thor going over building schematics and commanding his team of builders with a wriggling, drooling baby strapped to his chest. Loki, of course, takes the babe himself when Thor needs to be in the middle of the construction process.

They’re constantly in the midst of their people, so private moments between Thor and Loki have become few and far between. They can usually manage a kiss here or there, behind the stacks of boxes lining the walls or under the staircase. But Thor and Loki sleep just as the rest of their people do, in the large communal room that had been designated for the sleeping quarters. Thor had offered to let Loki take their one cot, but Loki had balked at the thought of sleeping alone. They sleep together on a blanket upon the floor, with Noma’s bassinet close to Loki’s head.

They’re in the midst of one of those private moments when Loki hears noises of upheaval, and he pulls away from Thor’s lips to find Stark bent over with his hands on his knees, faux dry-heaving into one of the potted plants beside him. There’s a fairly young-looking boy next to him, rubbing at his back with a perplexed look upon his face.

“Ah, Tony, my friend!” Thor booms, as if he didn’t just have his tongue halfway down Loki’s esophagus a moment ago. “Good to see you. Loki and I were just—“

“Playing a game of tonsil hockey?” Stark interrupts, and Thor and Loki seem to cock their heads in time.

“This game, it sounds interesting,” Thor says, and Noma squeals from where she’s situated against Thor’s chest in her carrier. “Perhaps we could play with the others some time!”

“Not sure the Queen of Asgard over there would like that,” replies Tony, and the skin at the back of Loki’s neck prickles. When he looks to Stark’s side, he finds the boy staring at him with wide brown eyes.

“You’re—“ The boy says excitedly, and Stark puts a hand on his arm.

“Now, now, Petey-Pie, let’s not be rude,” but the boy wriggles out from under Stark’s grasp, bouncing over to Loki with an amazed grin on his face. Unsure, Loki takes a step back.

“You’re Loki! Like, the one who attacked New York and all of that!” He exclaims, and Loki feels a chill bite at the back of his neck. How many times must he be reminded of the wrongdoings he’s trying to right? He opens his mouth, but the boy beats him to it.

“I’m Peter,” He proclaims, and holds his hand out to Loki. Being fairly acquainted with Midgardian customs, it only takes a moment for Loki to realize he’s meant to shake it, and he does so, uncertainly. “Peter Parker. I think you are _so cool!_ I mean, obviously, what you did wasn’t cool, but, like, I’ve seen footage of you on TV and read all about you and…and I’m babbling,” there’s a steady rose-colored blush fighting its way up Peter’s neck and to his ears. He takes his hand away from Loki to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I suppose what I’m saying is…nice to meet you?”

Loki considers the boy before smiling. He thinks he likes this Peter. “Well met, Peter Parker.”

It’s worth it to see the stars that seem to explode in the boy’s eyes. Stark practically has to _drag_ Peter away, and Loki can hear him exclaiming enthusiastically down the hallway.

“I met _Loki!_ Like _the Loki, the God of Mischief Loki!_ If this is what being an Avenger is like, I think I want to stay!”

Loki turns to Thor to be rightfully smug about the encounter, but, instead, he finds himself crowded up against the wall with a tongue halfway down his throat. When he can finally speak again, he levels Thor with an incredulous expression.

“What was that about?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Thor grumbles, petulant, and Loki is stunned speechless for all of a second before he begins _cackling._

“What is so humorous about it?” Thor asks, looking put out, and Loki has to take a moment to regain his breath.

“What’s so _funny,_ dear husband, is the fact that you were just _jealous_ of an adolescent.” But Loki presses up against Thor’s chest, mindful of Noma, and peppers kisses across his cheeks. “It is useless to be jealous of me, brother, because it is preposterous to think of my wanting anyone but you. The thought alone is hilarious. _Thor,”_ Loki says, lifting a hand to tip Thor’s face back to his own. “You must know that I am wholly yours, now and forever,” And his husband’s face finally softens as Thor brushes their noses together.

“And I, yours,” Thor breathes happily, before the sound of Stark’s shoes echo on the staircase above them.

“Get off my lawn, you horny teenagers,” He calls, and Thor and Loki dissolve into private laughter, cheeks pressed together.

Noma is almost five months old before Loki lets Stark hold her. He knows the man means well, knows Thor is ridiculously fond of him, and trusts him begrudgingly. But that doesn’t mean Loki _likes_ him. Loki works far better with Rogers, who is very clear about his distrust of Loki but has been nothing but respectful towards him regardless. Stark is all jokes. “Abominable Snowman” this and “Queen Elsa from Frozen” that. Loki doesn’t even understand the references that are being made and they still irritate him.

Natasha and Clint have offered to take Noma for the afternoon, and Thor is off base with Rogers doing who-know-what, so Loki has a couple hours to himself. As much as he has been desperately _longing_ for some alone time, now that he has it, he has no idea what to do with it. Since Asgard’s destruction, Loki has been constantly surrounded, be it by his people or his family. And while he’s not complaining, the Loki of his youth had been a staunch introvert with no intentions of changing that. It’s quite difficult to go from quiet solitude to bustling company in such a short span of time (though he is talking about a few centuries, here.)

He ends up wandering the complex, taking in all of the gleaming white-and-chrome surfaces and cutting-edge Midgardian technology. Loki has to admit, if nothing else, that Stark has accomplished an impressive feat in the sheer amount of _wealth_ it must have taken to build a facility of this caliber.

The training wing is a long hallway bracketed on both sides by high-tech “classrooms”, or so Stark had affectionately called them. The computers inside could be programmed to simulate almost any type of climate or terrain, and it could also produce holographic copies of enemies the Avengers had faced thus far. Loki pauses at the end of the hallway, in front of one of the windowed rooms that seems to be in use.

Inside is Stark, standing back against the computer console as Wanda, Peter and the Vision fight against shimmering mirages of the Chitauri that Loki had once lead in a path of destruction. Loki leans against the railing and watches, intrigued, as the three fight off seemingly endless waves of simulated enemies, until something goes wrong. One of the scarlet balls of energy (Loki must speak to Wanda sometime about her gift. It seems suspiciously similar to his own seiðr) ricochets off of the wall where a Chitauri once stood, and slams into Peter, who is crawling upside-down on the ceiling. He loses his grip, and before Loki can even think to call upon his magic, the boy is crashing to the ground with a finite-sounding _thud._

The rocky terrain shimmers out of existence, and Stark is at the boy’s side instantly, presumably checking him over for spinal injuries before rolling him onto his back. Wanda rushes to them, collapsing to her knees next to Peter, hands shaking.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“Hey, Wanda, sh,” Stark says softly, and his voice is comforting in a way Loki’s never heard from him before. “It’s not your fault, please, don’t worry.” He gives her arm a reassuring squeeze before turning back to Peter, touching his cheeks carefully.

“You with us, kid?” He asks, and the amount of concern and worry on his face tugs at something in Loki’s gut. “Peter, hey.”

The boy groans and blinks up at them blearily before cracking a dazed sort-of smile. “Did we win?”

With a croaked laugh, Stark sits back, rubbing an arm over his forehead. “Yeah, kid, you won. I think that’s enough training for today. Wanda, Vision, hit the showers. I’m going to take Petey-Pie to the med wing to make sure he’s golden.”

After another whispered apology to Peter, Wanda stands, clearly shaken. Before the Vision can follow her out, though, Stark catches his wrist and leans in to murmur something to him. The Vision nods to Stark after a moment before hovering back to the door.

Loki leaves before he can be noticed.

The next time he’s around Stark, it’s in the man’s vast laboratories, the ones that take up the whole basement sub-level of the complex. Tony is showing them the final schematics for the living quarters that are to be built when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Tony calls, and the door slides open to reveal Heimdall and a few men behind him.

“Your Majesties,” Heimdall says, and Thor and Loki have a silent conversation with only their eyebrows before Thor nods and heads outside to speak with the gatekeeper privately.

“We’ll wait until he’s back to discuss the bathrooms. I think the Jacuzzi tub is really going to knock his socks off. Do Asgardians wear socks?” And Stark shrugs before going off to one of the workbenches scattered with various electronic equipment, obviously not looking for an answer.

Loki bounces Noma on his hip as he looks over the projects in various states of completion littering Stark’s tables, pausing when a familiar yellow glint catches his eye. It’s a piece of the Mind Stone, the section that had been in Loki’s scepter, sitting in some sort of glass container. He picks it up carefully, turning the glass this way and that to see the stone inside. Noma makes a soft cooing noise, brown eyes lit golden by the glow of the stone.

“Why do you have this?” He asks, and Stark looks up from where he’s got three separate magnifying glasses up to his left eye.

“Hm? Oh, the stone?” And the man tries to sound nonchalant, but Loki can tell he’s uncomfortable with how close the trickster is to the infinity stone that once set him mad with power. “It’s a small piece of what my pal the Vision has in his melon. He’s been complaining of headaches—can he get headaches?—data congestion for the past couple days. I think it has something to do with this doohickey, but so far, I’ve had no luck.”

There is something—off, about the energy of the gem. Loki had been its make-shift master for a short time, so he knows the aura, the pure power that the stone emits. It seems…blocked, somehow.

“Here,” Loki says, and holds Noma out towards the inventor. She kicks and squeals happily.

“Uh, what do you mean, here?” Stark says, taking a step back, arms crossed across his chest. He’s eyeing Noma like she’s some sort of nuclear warhead.

“I mean here, take my daughter for a moment. I think I know how to fix the stone,” Impatiently, Loki takes a step closer, still holding Noma out. Stark seems like he’s going to refuse again before he sighs, reaching out and awkwardly taking the babe.

“Support her head, please,” and Stark does, tucking her against his chest. Loki winces internally at all the oil and engine grease he sees smeared across Stark’s shirt, and makes a note to bathe Noma tonight. The sacrifices he makes to play nice with Thor’s friends.

Loki opens the container carefully, settling the piece of stone in the palm of his hand in order to let its aura mingle with his own. The stone is…troubled. Unsettled, agitated, almost…anxious, as if it is waiting for something. Loki knows exactly what that something is. He grits his teeth and absorbs the energy from the stone, letting his own seiðr replace it, clear and untroubled. When he opens his eyes, the gem has morphed from the dirty yellow color it had been to a clearer, translucent gold.

When he turns back to Stark, Loki sees that Noma has the goggles Stark wears around his neck in her tiny fists, and she’s chewing at the strap between them. He’s about to apologize and take her back before he notices Stark’s face: his eyes are soft, and there’s a faint smile playing at his lips. Loki relaxes and puts the stone back in its container.

“Ask your friend the Vision if he feels any better now,” Loki says, taking a seat in one of the various rolling chairs scattered throughout the lab. Stark makes a noncommittal hum and goes back to pretending to steal Noma’s nose. When Thor returns, he finds Loki idly tinkering with a few pieces of scrap metal while Tony carries Noma through the maze of tables, stopping to show her some of his inventions. Noma squeals with delight every time.

“And this is Dum-E!” Loki hears Stark announcing, and Thor meets his eyes with a smile. “Hey, Dum-E, this is what you’ve been training for! Initiate the ‘got-your-nose’ protocol!”

“How do you like my friends?” Thor asks Loki that night as they settle down for bed.

“I suppose they’re alright,” Loki replies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It makes Loki wonder, and he sits back, stroking over Noma’s soft hair. Would he and Thor have ended up together, if none of this madness had happened? If Loki had not fallen from the Bifrost, if Malakith had not found the Aether, if Hela had never been released?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing in past tense but I love flashbacks. I have dug my own grave.  
> Also, note how I sneak Pre-Thor writing into Post-Ragnarök stories. Can you tell what my niche is?

It’s a fair bit more complicated, Loki’s stint at kingship now than his one as Odin. Before, he was content to maintain a policy of military non-interventionism and laze about all day drinking wine and watching the (artistically genius) feats of theatre he’d commissioned. Loki-as-Odin had only interacted with his people when need-be, and even then he’d only speak to his advisors. Let them be the ones to spread his word to the people.

It wasn’t exactly the worst policy to have, Loki muses as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“That was _Holger’s_ ball, and your child made off with it like a thief!”

“I’m certain I remember giving Sassa that ball for her birthday last, and I don’t appreciate you calling my daughter a _liar.”_

The two women had approached Loki in the middle of his bathing Noma, while he was knelt on the floor elbow-deep in soapy water. He had at least made them wait until Noma was out of the water and wrapped in a towel before continuing to snipe at each other.

“I’m sure we can come to an agreeable conclusion,” Loki says, flicking his fingers through Noma’s golden curls and murmuring a drying spell. Her hair has started to grow in full after an initial period of loss, which Loki is thankful for. He had carted her to Svanhild after a large bald patch had developed on the back of Noma’s head, terrified that something was wrong.

Nobody had told Loki it was normal for babies to lose their hair during the first six months. In fact, nobody had told Loki _anything_ about infants. These first six months have largely been a period of trial-and-error.

“We’re sorry to trouble you with this, your Majesty,” One of the women, Olga, says. Her counterpart also dips her head.

“We are. It’s just, with all that’s happened, the children have so little…” And Loki’s shoulders relax a bit. He glances down to Noma, who is peering up at him from under her long, dark lashes, doe-eyes wide. Loki would slay any beast in the nine realms, fight any enemy, just to make sure his daughter never wanted for anything. He supposes he can understand what these women are so worked up about, even if he does find it all a tad bit…petty. But who is Loki to judge on the pettiness of things?

“Let Sassa keep the ball,” He begins, holding up a finger when it looks like Olga is going to protest. “Here,” He says, and in his outstretched palm, another ball forms. This ball is the same size as the first, but it is red instead of blue. “Remember its color. If my memory serves, it is Holger’s favorite, no?”

Olga approaches him to accept the ball with a curtsey, and Noma giggles and claps at the display of magic. Whilst she won’t begin showing signs of being a Seiðrmadr until she grows, Loki would put money on his daughter having the gift. Loki himself is advanced in magic, and Thor’s lightning is a manifestation of seiðr in its most basic and powerful form. It would truly shock Loki if his daughter didn’t follow in kind. He’s almost giddy with the thought of being able to teach her sorcery, as Frigga had shown him when he was but a lad. He’ll show Noma _everything:_ healing magic, battle magic, magic of protection and growth, magic of transformation and transfiguration. And he’ll show her the side of the trickster, the secret, furtive runes that he’d taken from forbidden corners of all the nine realms. If learned correctly and used wisely, they will serve her well as she grows.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Both women say in parting, and they curtsey low once more before going their separate ways. Looking down at his daughter in his lap, Loki lets out a put-upon sigh.

“Was that something that really needed my attention?” And Noma babbles at him brightly in response.

“Exactly, I agree.”

Thor won’t be back until late, the Avengers (at least, Loki supposes that’s still their name, what with all the in-fighting that’s been happening) had been dispatched early in the morning to deal with some crisis or another. This left Loki in charge of both the Asgardians _and_ the complex. As desperately as he’d wanted to hex one of Stark’s toys or turn the whole place gold-and-green or some other feat of trickster-like malice, Loki’s rapidly-developing conscience had shut that plan down swiftly.

The renovations are coming along swimmingly. Half the living quarters have been built and are operational, and Thor and Loki had been quick to allocate the rooms to the elderly, ill, or young families that needed them the most. He and Thor still sleep in the main room with the remaining Asgardians, though now there are enough cots for everyone. Loki has basically bolted his to Thor’s to make sure they’re as close as physically possible when they sleep.

The royal family’s quarters will be done last. The blueprints Stark had shown them originally had been extravagant, with sprawling chambers and a lager bath than was in Odin and Frigga’s rooms on Asgard. Though Loki hadn’t exactly been complaining, Thor had talked Stark down to just the bedroom and the bathroom. He’d left the details of decoration to Loki, who had still managed to sneak in a large, four-poster bed and a respectably-sized tub. What can he say, he can be a very material man when the mood strikes him.

Noma hiccups as she finishes feeding, and Loki pulls her back to wipe at her mouth and burp her. She’s old enough now that they’ve started introducing fruits and other soft foods into her diet, but Loki is a little reluctant to stop feeding her from his breast. It’s a special bond, the one between he and his daughter when she feeds. Loki feels like, for once in his life, he’s providing someone with something that is _good_ for them. Even his love for Thor is not always a pure, nurturing thing. Often it can become dark, jealous, possessive. He’s keenly aware of the pretty, gentle Asgardian women who fawn over his husband when they think he can’t see, whose love would be kind, soft, and easily acceptable to outside eyes.

It makes Loki wonder, and he sits back, stroking over Noma’s soft hair. Would he and Thor have ended up together, if none of this madness had happened? If Loki had not fallen from the Bifrost, if Malakith had not found the Aether, if Hela had never been released? The trysts of Thor and Loki’s boyhood had happened right up until Thor’s banishment to Midgard. In fact, on the day of the coronation, Thor had awoken with Loki still fast asleep in his bed. He had chosen _Loki_ to sleep with the night after his pre-coronation feast, when he could have had any maiden that he desired. The thought of it now fills Loki’s cheeks with heat, though at the time the trickster had been seething with anger and jealousy at his brother’s upcoming ascent into kingship. In fact, Loki had tied a sting around Thor’s cock that night and rode Thor to his own completion three times before he let his brother come once. It had been a sort of exercise in control for Loki, to show Thor who was still holding the reins in their arrangement.

Despite this, their trysts were, obviously, in secret. This made it quite a bit more complicated when Odin began urging Thor to look for a wife to rule with, a Queen to bear children. Every time his father brought the subject up at dinner, Loki had bit into his cheek, throat closing like he was drowning. In all the years that he and Thor had been sleeping together, Loki had never once admitted that his attraction to his brother was not only sexual. Loki was _in love_ with Thor, whether he’d admit to it or not, and just the thought of some woman taking him away from Loki’s side filled his veins with ice.

Months passed like this, with Odin gently pushing Thor towards courtship, and Thor casually brushing off his advice. Eventually, one night, Thor and Loki had exchanged confused glances when a slim, pretty little blonde had approached the table, curtseying to Odin before taking a seat on the bench next to Thor.

“This is Tyra,” Odin had announced, gesturing to the woman. “She is the daughter of Unn, our ambassador to Alfheim. You remember him, yes, Thor?”

“Of course,” Thor replied, though the expression on his face had said otherwise.

“She’ll be joining us for dinner tonight,” And Loki looked to Frigga, who was smiling, eyes gentle. A rock formed in the pit of his stomach.

The maid was charming; Loki might have even said endearing. She had impeccable manners and was obviously terribly bright, conversing with Thor and Odin and Frigga on a wide array of topics. She had even attempted to engage Loki a couple times, but his bitten-out responses eventually drove her away. If he was in his right mind, Loki would have tried to show off, trick her, show Thor that he was better than any maiden father might parade in front of him. But Loki’s silvertongue had rusted with hurt, and he excused himself early that night, claiming a stomach ache.

 _He’s probably going to take her to bed,_ the voices in Loki’s head had whispered, and he had curled up in bed, shoving a pillow over his ears like that would silence them. _They’ll fall in love and be wed, and she’ll bear children, and Thor will forget all about you. It will be like you never existed_ —

The voices were interrupted by a knock at Loki’s door, and the trickster had sat up and made himself at least look presentable before he went to open it. He was expecting a lecture from Frigga or Odin about his treatment of their guest, so when he opened the door to reveal his brother, Loki had floundered.

“Loki—“ Thor started, and the trickster snapped out of his daze.

“Where’s your fiancée?” He had spit, tongue sharp. “I may know little about the fairer sex, but I cannot imagine she’d be pleased with you leaving her alone to seek me out.”

Thor gave him a look. “She’s not my fiancée. I’ve known her for an hour.” And he’d approached, taking a step over the barrier of the doorframe. Loki had retreated, watching him closely.

“Do not flee from me,” Thor had said, and there had been a quiet urgency to his voice that had Loki puzzled. He stopped to think about it, letting Thor seize his wrist.

“Loki, you cannot think I had any interest in her, not with what I already have,” And Loki’s nostrils had flared in anger. He fought against Thor’s grip futilely.

“What you already have?” He’d snarled. “And what is it that you have, brother? A toy? An item? A foolish man who will follow you into bed whenever it suits your fancy?”

“Loki—“ Thor had sounded shocked. “Loki, no,” and he’d caught Loki’s other wrist, pulling him inch by inch until the other man was secured to his chest, albeit still struggling. “You are not a toy, an item. You are—Loki, listen.” And he’d caught Loki’s chin between his fingers, holding tight. “You are my beloved, Loki. You are what matters most.”

Loki had stilled, breath leaving his chest in a rush. The expression on his face must have dismayed Thor, who let out a long sigh.

“You did not know this?”

“How was I supposed to?” Loki said, voice quieted. “You never told me this.”

“I—“ And Thor released Loki to run a hand through his hair. Loki had missed the contact sorely. “I was unsure if I should. If this arrangement between us was just…that. An arrangement.”

“You have feelings for me,” Loki had stated quietly, and Thor had nodded, once. “What kind?”

“Shouldn’t that be obvious?” Thor laughed, but his face was a serious counter-point. “Loki, I love you. To me, you have hung the stars, set the planets in their eternal cycle. I would have you and only you by my side,” and at this, Loki had turned his head away, unable to bear the emotion heavy in Thor’s eyes.

“And you?”

“And me?” Loki had retorted softly, staring at a tapestry on his wall.

“How is it that you feel about me?” And Loki couldn’t help it, he’d turned his head back, catching the vulnerable look on his brother’s face. He’d only seen Thor like this a few times: when, as a child, he had spelled water to small, floating chunks of ice at Loki’s tutelage. Though the aim was to freeze over the whole bowl, Loki had praised him heartily. It was the first (and last) time that Thor would ever show interest in sorcery himself. Secondly, when Thor had returned, bloody and beaten, from his first campaign of war, expecting Loki to berate him for foolishly rushing into the fray. To be honest, that had been Loki’s intent, but he had stopped when he saw the look in Thor’s eyes, and had quietly tended to his wounds, murmuring soft encouragements. And, finally, when Thor had asked about what Loki felt for him.

“I—“ It should be easy, to tell Thor what Loki felt for him. To tell him that he loved him, that he always wanted to be near him, that he felt he might die if Thor ever looked away from him. But, for some reason, the words stuck, as if barbed, in Loki’s throat. It was a sore vulnerability, to admit that he was in love with Thor. A chink in his otherwise-impenetrable armor, an opening for attack. Thor would eventually have to take a maiden as his wife. There was no other way, no possibility that Loki could ever fill that role for him, no matter how sorely he ached to be tied to Thor forever, to have something tangible to keep Thor by his side.

He’d missed the tears that had begun falling freely down his cheeks until Thor had cupped his face in his overly-large hands, wiping at them softly. Loki had startled and attempted to pull away, but Thor had held tight.

“Shh, my little Loki, my beloved,” He had murmured, pulling the slighter god in for a kiss. “I understand.”

They had made love thrice that night, moving together with a criticality that had never before entered their bedroom. The third time, Thor had spilled into him with a wounded cry, before collapsing onto Loki’s chest, making the already-spent trickster shudder.

“We’ll find a way,” Thor had murmured to him late that night, with Loki secured against his chest. “I will take you to be mine, Loki. This, I swear.”

Thor had been asleep when Loki had pressed a kiss right above his heart. “I love you, too.”

Thor had kept his promise, albeit in a way that neither of the men had anticipated. Loki looks down to his fair-haired daughter, who is slumbering against his chest. What he would give to reassure himself in the past. There is no way to stop what must be fate.

“They’re back!” A voice calls from outside the room Loki had locked himself in for privacy, and the trickster frowns. That was swifter than he’d anticipated, though he supposes Thor’s earthly chums make a fairly cohesive team.

Loki tucks Noma against his chest and stands, careful not to jostle her out of her slumber. Before he leaves, Loki allows himself one more moment of reflection. With all they’ve been through, on the path that the Norns have set for them, he supposes that he and Thor have ended up on the gentlest one. For that, he is thankful.

Thor and his friends are unloading the Quinjet out on the lawn, and Rogers emerges first, accompanied by Sam and Natasha. They are escorting a chained being out of the ship, and Loki nearly bites his own tongue in half when he realizes he’s familiar with _this_ being, as well. It’s another member of Dane’s crew; though, by the looks of him, the being has gone rogue. He’s of the Lem race, though Loki didn’t catch his name. But, if memory serves, he had seen this being performing a feat of Eldritch magic when Loki was captive on their ship.

When Thor emerges from the Quinjet, Loki spots a deep gash across his forehead that’s bleeding profusely. It makes him grind his teeth—he hates seeing Thor hurt (by anyone other than him). When Loki hurts Thor (or, as it were, hurt Thor in the past, now he tries to avoid it except for the occasional stabbing) he had known exactly how much pressure he was exerting, exactly how deep the wound would hurt. But when someone else does it, Loki has no control over it. No control over the pain his brother is experiencing, no way to know how deep the wound is.

When Thor catches sight of Loki, he beams. Loki responds with a look of mild annoyance, which has Thor wincing sheepishly. He motions to his forehead, and Loki crooks a finger at him to call him over.

It’s at this moment that the being Rogers has secured twinkles out of existence, reappearing, unchained, at the bottom of the knoll Loki is standing atop. The trickster barely has time to throw up a weak shield before the Lem releases a shockwave of static energy, sending everyone flying backwards. Loki’s slapdash charm only absorbs some of the blast before it shatters, and he’s blown back against the wall behind him, curling around Noma desperately.

When Loki comes to, he’s immediately aware of two things: one, Noma is crying, and two: he can feel electricity in the air. That can only mean one thing.

Loki’s eyes seek out Thor desperately, and he finds him standing by the Quinjet. When he catches Loki’s gaze, sees the state that his husband and daughter are in, Thor’s eye widens before it sparks, once, twice. And then it blazes pure white.

All of Thor’s friends are still knocked over on the ground, dazed. Loki quickly looks to make sure that Noma is unharmed, and when he’s satisfied, he starts down the hill. He has to stop this before it happens.

The wind picks up violently, and Loki struggles against it, tucking Noma close to his chest. She’s still crying, but Loki pushes forward. Next comes the rain, fat, hard droplets that start as a smattering but quickly turn into a downpour. Loki’s only a few feet away when lightning hits the ground behind Thor, sending sparks up Loki’s spine. His brother doesn’t flinch, though, standing rigid in the eye of the tempest, eye white with power.

“Thor!” He calls out, and the god of thunder slowly turns his head, though no signs of recognition pass his face. _“Thor, please!”_

“Loki, get back!” He hears Stark call, but Loki ignores him, taking a careful step forward.

“Thor,” He says, voice carefully soft. “Thor, it’s alright. Noma is alright.” When thunder rolls like a growl above them, Loki adds, “ _I_ am alright.”

The howling of the wind lessens somewhat, and Loki takes that as a sign to approach. He goes, step-by-step, watching Thor for any sign that he should back off. Thor’s power is _awe-inspiring_. Loki had always been aware of just how powerful his brother was when they were younger, but this is different. Before, Thor had always had Mjolnir to channel his power, though now Loki thinks that the hammer might have been more to _control_ Thor’s power than to conduct it. This power is ancient; it is of the primordial energy that created the realms themselves. Thor’s power is more of a direct link to Yggdrasil than Loki’s seiðr ever could be.

“Thor,” Loki gentles, slowly bringing his palm up to cup Thor’s cheek. A burst of lightning leaps through his veins, and Loki bites his tongue at the yelp that tries to escape him. He can’t startle Thor, not now. “Beloved,” He murmurs, and there’s the ticket. Though Thor is ripe with pet names, “Love” this and “My One” that, Loki has never once called Thor anything but “Brother”, “Husband”, or “King”. (Or, sometimes, “Dolt”, “Idiot” and “Oaf”.) Thor’s shoulders relax, and the weather begins to lift as his eye sparks before clearing to familiar sky-blue.

“Thor,” Loki murmurs again after a moment of silence, and Thor sags against him, head heavy against Loki’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs. “I’m sorry, I just—I saw that he hurt you, that he hurt Noma, and I couldn’t—“

“Hush now,” Loki says quietly, lifting his palm to thumb some of the blood from Thor’s forehead. “It is over, all is well,” but Thor catches his palm, turning it in his own.

Loki’s skin is traced with raised, red scarring, in the pattern of bolts of lightning against a stormy sky. It dances up his forearm to where it ends at the joint of his elbow. Thor looks absolutely _horrified,_ and Loki is too shocked himself to catch his brother before he falls into a pit of guilt.

“Norns, Loki, I am so sorry,” He moans, backing away slowly, like his mere proximity could cause harm. “I’ve—I’ve _scarred_ you, I—“ And Loki snaps out of his daze, shaking his head firmly and following.

“Enough of that, now. We are going inside, so I can heal you.” And he grabs Thor’s arm with his injured palm, holding in another wince. “I am not going to stand out here and listen to you be sorry for yourself, Thor Odinson.” And he drags Thor single-handedly past the group of gob-smacked Avengers around them, forcing him inside and to their cot in the main room.

“Stay,” He commands, and Thor sits dejectedly as Loki leaves, returning after he’s left Noma with Svanhild and a couple of the mothers. The sleeping room is blessedly empty and quiet at this time of day, and Loki stands before Thor, channeling his healing seiðr.

It’s difficult with the injury to his hand, but Loki forces his way past it until his hands glow with aquamarine light. Loki stands with Thor’s legs between his own and carefully works at the wound across his forehead until it’s just a faint pink line.

For a moment, he goes to do the same to his own palm, before he pauses. His eyes trace the jagged red lines that mark his palm, and Loki feels the corners of his mouth lifting.

“Loki?” Thor asks softly, and the trickster hums.

“I’ve given you many scars, have I not?” He asks, and Thor shakes his head softly.

“Loki—“

“Here,” Loki says, palming Thor’s side. “And here,” his stomach, “and here,” his shoulder, “ _and_ here,” between his ribs. “And those are just some of the stab wounds, might I add.” And Loki lifts his eyes to Thor’s, a small smile on his lips. “I think I’d be remiss to vanish a mark you’ve left on me. Especially one that’s so…unexpectedly artistic.”

Thor groans. “Loki—“

“Ah, ah.” Loki snaps. “No more apologizing. I won’t hear any more of it.” And he lowers himself to settle in Thor’s lap, using his other hand to carefully take the pain away from the wound, but leave the scarring in-tact.

“I don’t know how to control it,” Thor admits after a moment of silence, in which he’d cradled Loki close to his chest. “It will happen if someone hurts either of you again.”

“We’ll learn together,” Loki says, tracing along the studs on Thor’s armor with a finger. “You may not think of it as such, Thor, but your power is seiðr. It is ancient, and it is of the universe itself, but it is seiðr. I happen to be a bit familiar with that,” And Thor snorts and cuffs Loki lightly about the ear. “If I can learn to master mine, you surely can learn to master yours. It could be a valuable asset in battle, to be able to summon at will.”

There is a contemplative silence, and Loki traces over the scarring on his hand with a finger. After a moment, Thor speaks up.

“What did you call me?”

“What?” Loki asks, confused.

“When I was Berserkr. You called me something, and it brought me back. What was it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Loki sputters, cheeks going pink. Thor taps his chin.

“Loki?”

“Mmh?” Loki lifts his head.

The kiss Thor presses to his lips is deep and warm, full of adoration and love. Loki gets the distinct impression that he is s _afe,_ that he is something to be protected, cared for. It makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Beloved,” Loki murmurs from where he has his face hidden in Thor’s armor after.

“What was that?”

“You heard me. Don’t make me say it again.”

Thor laughs, loud and booming, and Loki doesn’t have a chance to be pleased that he’s back to his normal self before Thor has him flipped against the cot.

“ _Thor,”_ He hisses, though a shiver worms its way down his spine as his husband sucks tenderly at the junction of neck and ear. “We’re in _public,_ anyone could walk in.”

“Then do something about it,” Thor breathes against his skin, sending Loki into goose bumps. “I need you right now.”

Loki rolls his eyes and forces himself to concentrate, picturing Thor’s guest room in the complex that he’s been using to feed Noma. With a flick of his wrist, they’re there, and the bed under them is soft and comfortable instead of hard and unyielding.

“I’ll never tire of your sorcery, brother,” Thor murmurs against his skin, working another bruise into his neck. Loki shifts and moans softly, hooking a leg around one of Thor’s.

“Never? Not even after the snake incident?” And Thor nips at his earlobe, causing Loki to jerk under him.

“Let me rephrase. I will never tire of your sorcery when it’s being used for good.”

Loki’s eyes widen earnestly. “But it was being used for good, brother. I received an immense amount of merriment from it.”

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor growls, half admonishment, half endearment, as he works his way down the trickster’s body. It’s been a ridiculous amount of time since Loki’s found himself like this, moaning and writing under Thor’s single-minded affections. Between Noma’s birth and constantly being surrounded by their people, Loki would guess at it being at least four months since they’ve lain together.  

“Get rid of these,” Thor mutters, plucking at Loki’s clothes as he mouths bruises into his collarbones. Loki chuckles breathlessly.

“Say please?”

“Please,” Thor rumbles, though Loki can tell his patience is wearing thin. Thor’s never been particularly good at waiting for the things that he wants. Though Loki considers the merits of spelling Thor still and testing his limits, he supposes that should be saved for a later date.

Tapping his fingers against Thor’s breastplate, he disappears his brother’s adornments before working on his own. Once they’re both suitably naked, Loki uses the momentary lapse in Thor’s attention to flip their positions.

“Sometimes we must change things up a little, no?” Loki teases, perched atop Thor’s lap. Thor snorts at him before rolling his hips up, causing Loki to swallow a moan.

“That will come in due time,” Loki admonishes, allowing Thor one grind more before he lifts himself off of his brother’s body, sliding down to settle between his thighs.

“Loki,” Thor looks surprised, and Loki supposes it isn’t unwarranted. Loki’s partial to being the center of attention during lovemaking, and he’s usually content to sit back and let Thor work him over until he can’t stand it anymore. But that doesn’t mean he won’t indulge, occasionally.

Loki slides his lips up the side of Thor’s girth before looking up at him, green eyes wide. “What?” He asks, making sure his lower lip just barely brushes the head as he speaks. “I’m just giving my king the proper worship that he deserves.”

“ _Loki,”_ Thor says, and before he can launch into his speech about not deserving special treatment for his title, Loki tucks his teeth and ducks down, swallowing him whole.

Thor lets out a startled moan and bucks up, which Loki was fortunately prepared for. He only chokes a bit before he slides his hands to catch Thor’s hips and urge them back down. Thankfully, the king takes two great fistfuls of the sheets and forces his hips back down against the mattress.

“Good boy,” Loki praises as he pulls back off, voice silken. He feels a great shudder race through Thor’s body. “Keep behaving and I might just let you fuck me.” And Loki licks up both sides before taking the head in shallowly, suckling until Thor groans with overstimulation. Ducking down, Loki takes the whole length again before bobbing his head, hands coming up to stroke the base. This continues for a bit before Loki takes pity on his husband and takes one of Thor’s hands in his, guiding it to the top of his head.

Thor takes the hint and fists Loki’s hair, just this side of painful (Loki’s favorite), and begins thrusting. Loki forces his throat relaxed and breathes through his nose until Thor pulls out with a _pop,_ panting.

“I want to spill inside of you,” He says, before pausing to add “please”.

“Quick learner,” Loki praises, and lets Thor flip their positions. His husband hastily traces the curves of Loki’s body with his mouth before coming between his thighs, outlining the lips of Loki’s cunt with a finger. He’s decided to remain with his natural genitalia, though Loki still prefers his Aesir skin to that of his Jötunar form. But he no longer feels like he’s forcing himself to pretend like he’s something that he’s not.

It’s been a while since they’ve done this, so Thor takes his time, stretching Loki up to three fingers before the trickster groans impatiently and shoves his hips up. Chuckling, Thor slides in inch by inch until he hits home in Loki’s core.

“By the Norns, I’ve missed this,” Thor pants, stilling for a moment like he’s trying to get a hold of himself. Loki admits that he’s felt woefully empty for the past few months, between the birth and his unfortunate lack of Thor.

“Move,” Loki pleads, voice far too wrecked for his own liking, and Thor takes a deep breath before he pulls back and pushes back in.

It’s been far too long, they’re both starved for it, and their pace turns heavy quickly. Loki’s legs are wrapped desperately around Thor’s hips, and his toes curl when Thor finds his g-spot and angles to hit it every time.

“Loki,” Thor gasps against his ear, and Loki responds with a high moan. “Loki, my Loki. Have you thought of more?” And the question confuses Loki, whose brow furrows until Thor continues. “More babies, siblings for Noma? I could fill you up again, watch you grow with my seed.”

Loki jerks and moans under his husband, the thought sending sparks of heat flying down his spine.

“I want to see you round with my child again, beloved. I want to show my friends just how much I love you, how I belong to you. I want to care for you from the beginning. I’d get you anything you could ever want, Loki, you know I would.”

Between Thor protecting Noma and Loki earlier, and the sentimental nonsense he’s spouting now, Loki’s pair bonding instincts are going berserk. He’s found a mate that can provide for him and his offspring, keep them safe. It sends an immense spark of pride and pleasure glowing in his gut, and Loki only lasts two more thrusts before he’s gasping Thor’s name and releasing spectacularly. Another pair of thrusts has Thor following, releasing deep inside him.

Loki is stunned in the afterglow, and Thor pulls him close, tucking him into his chest. It seems an eternity before he speaks again.

“Have you? Considered having more children, that is.”

“Noma is but half a year old,” Loki points out weakly, but he knows his voice betrays his true thoughts.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Thor says, planting a kiss to Loki’s forehead. The trickster heaves a long-suffering sigh, but internally, he’s pleased.

“Let’s let the first one get to a year old. Then I’ll consider it.”

“You’ve a spell against conception,” Thor realizes, and Loki nods after a moment. “So you won’t conceive until you loose the enchantment?”

“Aye.”

“…Do you suppose Svanhild could watch Noma for a while longer?”

Loki smirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line in the comments or at tegary.tumblr.com if there's a chapter you're dying to read!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They sit for what feels like hours as Svanhild checks over Noma, doing everything she can without touching the babe. The babe wails until her voice becomes hoarse, and then she continues, releasing such cries of anguish that Loki has to hide his face in Thor’s neck. His husband holds him tight to his chest as Loki shakes, every cell in his body sore with his inability to help his baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give y’all an update that I am back in class full-time now, so I’m hoping to update about once a week on Thursdays or Fridays. There will probably be some weeks where the writing bug hits me and I update twice, or some weeks where I have a paper due and I don’t get around to updating at all. I hope you’re all still enjoying regardless! As always, drop me a line if there’s a little plot line you’d like to read about. I’d be glad to work on some suggestions!
> 
> Onwards to ~5000 words of Thorki parenting shenanigans.

It takes Loki a good few seconds to figure out what’s awoken him one night when he rolls over, blinking blearily at Thor, who is still sound asleep across from him. Noma isn’t crying, in fact, the room is mostly silent save for the soft breathing of the group of Asgardians still left without living quarters. The blinds are still drawn over the windows, casting the room in almost pitch-black darkness. His body hasn’t woken him, he’s not hungry or thirsty or ill. It’s only when Loki curls up tight against Thor to sleep again that it hits him: he’s _cold._ The temperature has dropped significantly. In fact, Loki thinks he can see his breath in the little light the room holds at this time of night.

This has never been a problem before. In Midgardian seasons, they are sitting right at the beginning of autumn, still too early for such dramatic drops in temperature. Loki shudders again before standing, holding in a yelp when his bare feet touch the cold tiled floor. While his Aesir skin is preferable when it comes to handling the heat, Loki’s Jötunn form is far more equipped to stand the cold. His Jötunn form would also likely lower the temperature around him dramatically, which he doesn’t think his fellow Asgardians would appreciate too much.

Footsteps quick but quiet, Loki hurries over to the apparatus on the wall that controls the room’s heating systems. He has to rub his eyes a couple times to make sure he’s seeing the screen correctly: it’s showing the temperature in the room as sitting just over fifty degrees, though the heater itself is set to seventy. Loki can’t believe the others are still sleeping through this. There must be some kind of malfunction with the apparatus, and he weighs the merits of waking Stark up to deal with it before deciding that conversation is better left to the morning. Loki has seen Stark before he drinks the concoction that humans call “coffee,” and it’s far from pleasant.

Cranking the dial up to eighty degrees, as if that could help at all, Loki turns and scurries back over to the cots. He’s eager to curl up against Thor under the blankets and leech some of his heat. Before he does, though, he stops to check on his sleeping daughter. Kneeling, Loki leans over her bassinet, and stops cold.

Noma is deep in slumber, and, with every exhale, ice crystals float into the air about her. She’s still Noma: her mop of curly golden hair, her button nose, the soft curve of her cheeks, but now her perfect skin is dyed the Cornflower blue of a Jötunn. Her markings, present in Aesir form, are now even more pronounced, midnight against the rest of her skin, delicate twirls of color that almost look painted by a loving hand.

Loki gapes, awed, for a moment. He hadn’t even known if his daughter was capable of taking on Jötunar form, considering her mixed heritage. She’s just as perfect in this form as she is in her more Aesir skin. She’s got tiny, barely-there horns that peek out from her curls, and Loki can see that her still-growing baby teeth have sharpened into delicate points as she exhales. How lovely. He’s almost tempted to leave her to slumber as such, but he’d rather not let his people and husband freeze to avoid waking his daughter. Reaching out, Loki carefully lifts her into his arms.

Noma wakes and begins to wail at the same time Loki jerks and hisses, having forgotten that Jötunar skin, when not properly warded, burns all other beings who attempt to touch it. Gritting his teeth, he quickly wraps his daughter in a blanket, both palms and arms smarting like he’s just been burned. Of course, the racket wakes the other inhabitants of the room, including Thor, who is off the bed and in an attacking stance in seconds. Noma is still releasing her pained cry, which is higher-pitched than her cry of hunger or of just general discomfort.

He relaxes when he sees that it’s only Loki, but a look of concern soon crosses his face when he sees the look mirrored on Loki’s own.

“She’s…” Thor murmurs as he approaches, brain still foggy from slumber, and Loki holds Noma closer to his chest.

“Yes, but that’s not it, Thor,” And he fights hard to keep the waver from his voice. “When I touched her, she wailed like it had _hurt her._ Of course, Jötunar skin would burn me in my Aesir form. But I have never felt any pain myself when someone was burned while I was in my Jötunn skin. It’s like my skin burned _her_ as well.”

“Let’s get her to Svanhild,” Thor says, and Loki nods quickly.

Noma continues to wail as they hurry down the corridors of the new living quarters. The sound sends daggers into Loki’s heart, and he winces each time her voice raises. She hadn’t started crying until Loki had _touched_ her. It’s like he had physically _hurt_ her with his touch, the touch that was once able to calm his crying daughter in mere seconds. He grits his teeth against the panic and guilt that threaten to rise in his throat and pushes on, clutching Noma close to his chest.

Svanhild is already awake when they arrive, which is unsurprising considering Noma is wailing fit to raise Hela entirely on her own. When Svanhild reaches out to take the babe, though, Loki holds her away carefully.

“You cannot touch her bare skin,” He warns. “It will burn.” And when Svanhild nods and takes Noma carefully from his arms, black patches of frostbite are revealed over Loki’s palms.

“Loki—“ Thor says, startled, but the trickster shakes his head.

“It is easily fixed,” He says, already starting to call on his healing seiðr. “Worry about the babe.”

They sit for what feels like hours as Svanhild checks over Noma, doing everything she can without touching the babe. The babe wails until her voice becomes hoarse, and then she continues, releasing such cries of anguish that Loki has to hide his face in Thor’s neck. His husband holds him tight to his chest as Loki shakes, every cell in his body sore with his inability to help his baby.

“I want to try something,” Svanhild finally says, carefully rebundling Noma so that she may hold her. “It will require some help from you, your Majesty,” She says to Loki, who looks up from where he’s holding Thor’s hands, white knuckled, and breathes out “anything.”

“Lay back, Majesty,” She urges, and Loki does, laying back on Svanhild’s bed as she brings Noma over. Carefully settling the babe on Loki’s chest, the healer looks up at him.

“This will require your Jötunn form,” She says, and Loki hesitates for a moment before closing his eyes, seeking out his glamours. It takes him a few tries, as distracted as he is by his babe’s pain, but finally he feels the cool rush over his body that signifies his transformation. When he opens his eyes again, he sees red reflected in Svanhild’s own.

Reaching down, Svanhild carefully unbuttons Loki’s sleeping shirt before unrolling Noma from her blanket, settling her against Loki’s bare skin. The babe immediately presses as close as she can to her mother, squirming until she’s curled up tight atop his heart. And, after a moment, her cries die down to silence. His daughter drifts to sleep peacefully.

Slowly, Loki looks up, catching a similar look of awe on Thor’s face. Svanhild sighs in relief before settling down in a chair across from them, tucking her hair back behind her shoulders.

“She’s just as much Jötunn as she is Aesir,” the healer points out, shaking out ice crystals that had formed in Noma’s blanket. “While able to hold her form for longer, she is yet too young to regulate her own temperature as you can.”

“She was overheating,” Loki recognizes, and then feels immensely dull. Why hadn’t he recognized the signs? His daughter was _suffering._ Loki knows full-blooded Jötunar can _die_ from overheating, he’s unsure if Noma is safe from this consequence due to her Aesir blood. But she had been hurting none the less, and Loki feels ridiculously like all of this is somehow his fault.

“Indeed,” Svanhild says, handing the now-folded blanket back to Thor. “Let’s try this: lay with her like this once a week for now on, until we know she can regulate her own temperature. You three stay here tonight, I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Loki says, standing with Noma secured to his chest. “You’ve already done enough. Thor and I will go somewhere else, you rest.” He’s beginning to notice the healer shivering, and Thor is doing his best to hide it, but Loki can spot the minute tremor of his body. It’s surprising they lasted this long, what with two Jötunar this close.

“We’ll take the guest room,” Thor reaches out to settle his palm against the small of Loki’s back, and the trickster gives him a look.

“ _You’ll_ be going back to the cots to sleep. The temperature should have lifted by now. Noma and I will be going to the guest room, so that we don’t disturb anyone else’s sleep.”

“And why’s that?” Thor asks, not moving away. Loki sighs.

“You have a people who will need your attention tomorrow. And even you, with your ridiculous muscles, are not impenetrable to the cold.” To make his point, Loki drags one cold fingertip along Thor’s collarbone. The Thunderer shivers before scowling.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not leaving either of you. Not after what just transpired.”

Loki opens his mouth to object, but stops when he sees the look on Thor’s face. He sighs, half exasperated, half fond. There really is no way to change Thor’s mind once he’s made it up.

He does manage to convince Thor to wrap himself in the blankets from the guest bed, and he spoons up behind Loki, protected from his skin by Loki’s wards. The trickster sets to working on a set for Noma, and they all doze off early in the morning, Thor’s arms wrapped around them both.

Noma has reverted back to her Aesir skin by the morning, and she’s quickly returned to her happy, bubbling self. Thor calls for a communal day of rest the day after, citing that his building crews could use a break. Loki hums to himself and says nothing, settling Noma down on her stomach on the floor. She wriggles about a bit before slowly sitting herself up, looking up at Loki to babble brightly. He smiles at her and settles at the opposite end of the room, apparating Noma’s favorite stuffed animal in his lap. It’s a silver horse, with a soft, flowing mane and two wings protruding from its back. The toy had appeared in Noma’s bassinet one night, but Loki is fairly certain he knows who it’s from.

“Bah,” Noma says to him, brown eyes wide, and Loki holds the horse out towards her.

“Come on, Love, come get the pony.”

Noma blinks at him for a moment before she begins crawling across the floor towards him, giggling. Svanhild had told them to look for her first steps sometime between nine and twelve months, and, as Noma’s recently passed into her eighth month, she’s getting closer to that time frame.

“It’s only a prediction, though,” Svanhild had said to him one day, fingers covered in baby drool as she checked Noma’s growing teeth. “She could begin before or after that time frame. All babies are different in that way.”

“Bah!” Noma squeals as she reaches Loki, grabbing for the horse and tumbling into his lap. The trickster lifts his daughter up to his face, pressing kisses over her rounded cheeks.

“That’s my clever girl!” He croons, and Noma squeals with laughter and kicks her little legs.

Loki looks up to see Thor standing over them, smiling, and Loki returns it as his brother leans down to kiss Noma’s forehead, then Loki’s own. When he stands, Thor takes Noma from Loki’s arms, walking her back over to the other side of the room. Carefully, he sets Noma down on her feet, taking her little hands in his and urging her to take a step forward. They take a step together, and then two, before her little knees wobble and Thor has to right her again.

“That’s it, go to Mama,” Thor praises, helping her take another step. All in all, it takes the two a good few minutes to cross the floor to land in front of Loki, who is smiling like an idiot. Noma squeals in delight and wriggles her whole body when she looks up at him.

“There he is! There’s mama!” Thor says, and Noma grins toothily.

“Mama!” She warbles, and Loki’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Did she…?” He asks, looking up at Thor, who has a similar expression on his face.

“Noma, say Mama!” He prompts again, and their daughter tips her head before giggling.

“Mama!”

“You’re not crying, are you?” Thor teases gently after Loki has scooped his daughter up, burying his face in her golden curls.

“Shut up,” Loki responds, sniffling unattractively. “You’re just jealous that she said Mama first.”

He shouldn’t have said it, and he knows it immediately when he looks up at Thor’s face. Noma’s been partial to Loki since she’s been born, and it’s understandable, as Loki has been the one feeding her, which always gives him a couple hours’ advantage on Thor every day. But it’s caused Thor to develop some kind of…complex, and Loki knows his husband worries that their daughter doesn’t like him.

“I didn’t mean—“

“I know,” Thor interrupts, and laughs it off awkwardly, voice stilted. “I know you didn’t.”

“Don’t…” Loki says, before lifting their daughter up so that she can see her father. “Noma, Love, who’s this?” He asks, and the babe tilts her head like she’s contemplating.

“Who’s this?” Loki asks again, now a bit frantic with the strained look that’s appearing on Thor’s face.

It takes a second more, but Noma pulls her spit-slick thumb out of her mouth to warble “Dada?”

Thor’s eye lights immediately, the melancholy look on his face being replaced with one of sheer awe and joy. Loki lets Thor have Noma when he reaches down, and he lifts his daughter up in the air, spinning her around. Loki has to bite his tongue to keep himself from asking Thor to be careful, as it’s a redundant thing. Thor has always handled their daughter with the utmost amount of care.

“Clever girl! Sweet girl!” Thor praises, and Noma is giggling ceaselessly, hands coming up to pat at Thor’s bearded cheeks. When he stops spinning, he lifts her to his face so that he can kiss all over her.

“We have the smartest child in all the nine realms,” Thor proclaims to Loki after. Twin smiles adorn his and his daughters’ faces. Loki is inclined to agree.

After, Thor and Loki take Noma for her bath before her daily nap. Loki draws up the water just warm enough while Thor holds Noma in his lap, dipping her down towards the floor before pulling her back up to lay a great smacking kiss on her forehead. The babe squeals in delight and mimics Thor’s kissing noise each time: “Mwah! Mwah!”

“Come now you two, it’s bath time,” Loki calls, taking a seat at the edge of the tub.

“Mama’s no fun,” Thor whispers conspiratorially to Noma as he carries her over, settling her carefully in the bathwater. She immediately starts splashing about in the bubbles that Loki’s drawn up for her.

“Excuse me, I am absolutely fun,” Loki replies, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows so that they don’t get wet. “I would even wager to say that _I_ am the fun parent.”

“Sure, if you’d like to think that,” Thor shoots back petulantly, and Loki goes a little wide-eyed when the god of thunder sticks his tongue out at him. “But I’d say that _I_ am the fun parent.”

“Is that so?” Loki asks mildly, starting to soap up Noma’s hair, but the corner of his mouth tics up in a smile. “I think you might just have to prove it to me.”

Thor frowns contemplatively for a moment, during which time Loki twirls Noma’s wet hair so that it comes to a little curl at the top. She splashes her palms down in the water, spraying Loki in the face with soap, and he sputters a bit.

“I know!” Thor declares, and leans down towards the tub. Loki looks back after a moment to see his husband with a face full of suds, sitting over his beard and eyebrows like they’re a natural part of his facial hair.

“How’s this for the fun parent?” He asks, and Loki can’t help but snort, turning away to hide his laughter. Noma peers up at her father with wide brown eyes, blinking a few times before she squeals and smacks the water, sending droplets flying everywhere.

Shielding his face, Loki prepares to get hit by the spray, but then frowns when no water comes. Opening his eyes, Loki is awed to find the water droplets hovering in the air, suspended like a mobile. Noma is cooing curiously, little fingers coming up to play with the crystalline droplets that hang around her in a veil. Thor is watching her with his mouth half-ajar, suds slowly sliding off his face. He has to look away and shake his head when some fall into his eye.

“Bah,” Noma coos, batting at a droplet with her hand. It sways this way and that, but never leaves its place in the shield formed around his daughter. She’s somehow called the element to _protect_ her, and Loki very slowly reaches out with his seiðr, feeling about the water for its energy. It’s coming from Noma alright, Loki can feel his own seiðr reflected back at him along with something different, something warmer and full of light. This is his daughter’s magic.

“Seiðr,” Loki breathes, and Thor looks up from where he’s been scrubbing at his eye. “Thor, she’s got magic!”

Thor catches him easily when Loki basically throws himself into his husband’s arms, overcome with joy. His daughter has inherited the gift. Loki will get to teach her like he’s always dreamed.

“Was it even a question, beloved?” Thor asks softly, smoothing kisses across Loki’s hairline. “She is the daughter of one of the greatest sorcerers these nine realms will ever know.”

“No, you great oaf,” Loki replies, looking up at Thor with soft eyes. “She is the daughter of lightning incarnate.”

No more feats of magic appear for the next couple months. Noma had shown signs of seiðr incredibly young, though they must consider that both of her parents hold the gift and the fact that she is a hybrid of two species known to be naturally gifted with magic. Loki supposes that her early manifestation of magic might not have been so unusual, after all.

He’s in the middle of looking over some star charts that Stark gave him while Thor is helping a now ten-month-old Noma take steps across the floor of their new living quarters. The Asgardian wing of the complex is now fully finished, and Loki and Thor had moved their little family into their rooms the day prior. Noma’s crib is now pushed across the room under the window, though Stark had given them a look when he’d brought it in.

“I only built you one nursery, so you might want to think about that before you consider…expanding.”

Loki had given him the eye, letting a blushing Thor tell Stark that they weren’t planning on adding to their family _right at this very moment._

“Hm,” Stark had replied, looked over the two knowingly, and then left.

“Let’s walk to Mama!” Thor exclaims, and Loki looks up from the chart he’s going over. It’s overlain with pictures Stark has taken from his satellites. They’re blurry, but Loki can see just enough to make out the outlines of large, oddly shaped objects. _Ships._ They’re still a moderate distance away from the nearest warp point to Earth, but Loki has a creeping feeling that their days of peace are numbered.

“Here we are, Love,” Loki calls, dangling his legs over the edge of their bed and opening his arms. Noma grins at him, pulling against Thor’s hands on her own as she takes several steps towards Loki.

She’s gotten more comfortable on her own two feet in the past couple months, now able to stand unsupported for a second or so before she tumbles over onto the ground. She can also pull herself up to stand, provided that she has something to hold on to.

“Mama!” Noma warbles, and Thor holds her for a few more steps before he frees his hands from Noma’s. Loki’s heart gives a lurch.

“Thor—“ He says, springing up off the bed to catch his daughter. But, to his awe, Noma takes one shaky step, and then another, and then _another_ on her own, making it the few more inches to Loki before she tumbles into his legs.

Thor’s face is smug when Loki looks up, blinking at him with wide eyes. Noma is giggling, grabbing at Loki’s knees and using them to pull herself back up, toddling about at his feet.

“I told you,” He says. “We have the smartest daughter in all the nine realms.”

Noma is a _terror_ as she begins to learn how her legs work. She can only manage about five or so steps on her own before she falls down and has to start again, but she’s figured out exactly how to maximize those steps to wreak as much havoc as possible. Loki is in the middle of lessons? She lands face-first onto one of the fancy screens Stark had equipped the new school room with. Thor’s in the midst of talking with Stark? The wires coming from Stark’s various toys are just within Noma’s reach. They’re trying to dress her in the morning? Noma makes a toddling run for it. Of course, she doesn’t make it very far, but Loki isn’t exactly looking forward to what her toddler years will bring if she’s already this much trouble on her own two legs.

“And they all lived happily ever after,” Loki finishes one night, closing the book that Clint had leant him. _They all lived happily ever after,_ Loki snorts. How trite. He far preferred the one Clint had leant him last week, about the mermaid who turned to sea foam at the end.

When he looks across the room, he finds Thor deep asleep in their rocking chair with Noma on his chest, equally exhausted. Thor had been out all day with the Avengers chasing down leads on the remaining infinity stones, besides the tesseract and the mind stone that both remain within the complex. The others still don’t know of Loki’s possession of the Tesseract. Thor had told him that it was Loki’s responsibility to decide what was done with it, though he had promised to tell the others should it become necessary. Reaching into his pocket dimension, Loki retrieves the infinity stone, cupping it between his palms. Even within its casing, Loki can feel just how terrible a power the stone holds. When he looks up again, his husband and daughter are cast in a faint blue glow, and Loki grits his teeth. He is still a selfish man, after all. Though he’s not told Thor, Loki has already decided what is to be done with the Tesseract. It is a bargaining chip, and Loki will play it for Thor and Noma’s lives when the time comes.

It’s ironic to Loki, how far he’s come since the destruction of Asgard. In the obvious ways, of course: he’s married to the only man he thinks he’s ever truly loved, they have a daughter together, he’s co-ruling the very people that he had betrayed not long ago. But in the not-so-obvious ways as well: Loki had, of course, taken the Tesseract to keep it from Thanos. About that, he hadn’t lied. But he also hadn’t told the whole truth: the stone was meant to be a safeguard for his own life. He’d fully intended to use the Tesseract in order to keep himself alive when it became necessary. Now, he could care less about what happens to him, just so long as Thor and Noma are safe.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” comes Thor’s drowsy voice, and Loki quickly vanishes the stone again before his husband opens his eye.

“You’re just a light sleeper,” Loki replies, pulling back the covers and slipping under as Thor rises, slowly, so as not to wake their daughter. He carefully settles Noma in her crib before moving to join Loki.

“Does that mind of yours ever turn off?”

“Verily, some of us can’t risk the consequences,” Loki snarks, though he doesn’t resist when Thor pulls him close to his chest. “I have to do the thinking for the both of us, sometimes.”

A beard scratches at the back of Loki’s neck, and he shudders a bit. “I’m wounded,” Thor murmurs against his skin, and Loki lets out a weak scoff.

“I’m not saying you don’t think at all,” and Thor’s lips slide up the back of his neck to the spot just behind his ear, “just that you do your thinking with… areas other than your brain, sometimes.”

“I suppose I can’t be blamed for this, then,” Thor whispers, and Loki jerks when a warm palm cups him though his sleep pants.

“Thor,” He hisses, “Noma is asleep,” and he has to catch a yelp when a wet heat encases his earlobe.

“I suppose you’ll just have to keep that giant mouth of yours quiet,” Thor murmurs to him, parroting Loki from what feels like a lifetime ago, and the trickster makes an indignant noise and kicks at Thor’s shin.

“It’s just the consequences of my turning my brain off,” he can feel Thor’s grin against the skin of his neck.

 Loki groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I go to make a new google search, my search bar suggests “When do babies start to walk?” “When do babies start to talk?” or something similar. I have learned more about infant development by writing this series than I ever did in my health classes in school.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And what is so special about today?” Loki questions, tugging his hair out of Noma’s reach when she makes to chew on it. Thor looks at him with a quizzical expression on his face before throwing his arms out dramatically.
> 
> “It is Noma’s name-day!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all...y'all, I'm sorry.
> 
> I started a plot on accident and now it's running free.

Loki is hanging off the Bifrost. He can feel feel the cold, rushing energy of the rainbow bridge under his fingers, the gaping, hungry maw of the infinite universe surrounding him. If he lets go, he knows there is a slim chance he will ever be found. _When_ he lets go.

“Loki!” And it’s Thor standing over him, face bruised from their earlier battle and split in terror. For what, Loki knows not. For loss of him? For the mess he’ll have to clean once Loki’s gone? For the fact that he has spent years in the bed of a monster, in the embrace of a once-called brother? It matters not, really. All of this will be over soon enough.

“Loki, hold on!” and one of Thor’s palms clutches at his own, clammy and sweat-slick. He’s trying to anchor Loki, to pull him back from the precipice, but Loki can tell already that his effort is in vain. Thor is exhausted, and Loki only has a moment to be proud that he’s left Thor like this when the Thunderer’s already perilous grip slips a bit, sending Loki swinging like a puppet on a string.

“Don’t, please—“ Thor chokes, and his voice is hoarse with a million emotions at once. Loki feels nothing, though, nothing but a strange sense of peace. This is it, the end for him. No more will his family have to worry about how he ruins their perfect image, no more will Odin have to fret about his long-held secret. No longer will Thor be tethered to a love that could never have lasted.

“Goodbye, brother,” Loki whispers, barely heard over the rush of blood in his own ears. He lets go.

When he next opens his eyes, it is dark. A small amount of light filters from a grated window above him, and Loki sits himself up, wincing at the soreness in his body. The ground is cold under his palms, and Loki pushes on them to stand, squinting his eyes against the darkness that surrounds him. He sets a palm against the rocky wall nearest him for support, and frowns when his skin touches what feels like carvings in the surface.

He squats to inspect them, and his eyes go wide when Loki registers what he’s seeing: tick marks. Rows and rows and rows of them, lining the wall from top to bottom. There’s got to be at least a year’s worth of them, if not more, and Loki scrambles back when realization hits him like a blow to the chest: _Thanos._ His surroundings suddenly become intimately familiar to him: the rocky outcrop where he used to elevate his injuries after a bout of punishment, the crack at the north end of the cave that would collect rainwater for Loki to drink, the stalagmite tinted red with the blood of Loki’s knuckles when he’d punched it hard enough in frustration to break a finger.

He doesn’t even have time to wonder how he’s _back here_ when a noise cuts through the chaos of his mind: high, trilling, _known to him._ It’s Noma’s cry. Noma’s _pained_ cry.

Loki jerks his head, looking this way and that with wild eyes, desperate. His daughter is nowhere to be found, though, and he scrambles to the end of the cave. Peering up at the light coming from the cell’s only exit, Loki feels the ground shift under his feet.

When he’s next aware of himself, he’s outside the Avengers’ complex, in the vast grassy fields that surround it. Loki dimly registers the acrid smell of fire, and when he turns, he finds the fortress up in flames, sending pitch black smoke into the sky and setting it dark as night. When he turns again, the scene in front of him has changed: the field is filled with bodies, Asgardian and human alike, limbs at unnatural angles and skin charred. The high trill of Noma’s cry has not stopped, and when Loki looks over the carnage before him, he realizes where it’s coming from.

Thanos is standing at the end of the trail of bloodlust, surveying it like the ruthless conqueror that he is. The sight of him sets bile rising acrid in Loki’s throat, and blood begins to pound sorely in his temples. He takes careful, measured steps over the bodies before him: in a mangle of red-and-gold metal lies Stark, chest forever stilled. Across from him is the Captain in a similar state: pale, silenced, unmoving. This is Loki’s fault. This is all Loki’s fault.

As he makes his slow approach, Loki realizes two things: First, Thanos is holding something in the bronzed infinity gauntlet that adorns one of his fists. Each of his knuckles is embellished with an infinity stone, save for one empty socket: that of the Tesseract. Secondly, there is a body lying limp under the Mad Titan’s gigantic boot, barely moving, but still alive.

Loki’s knees nearly buckle when he realizes it’s Thor: bloody and beaten, with the heel of Thanos’ foot resting precariously on his head. The Thunderer looks a mere second from death, and Loki lets out a dismayed cry.

“Loki,” His husband chokes, blood sliding down his chin with every syllable. “Why have you let him do this? Why have you let him take her? I thought you loved us…” And he dissolves into a fit of bloody coughing, leaving Loki mute in terror.

“Little silvertongue,” Thanos booms above him, and Loki’s spine goes ramrod-straight, every pain Thanos inflicted on him during the course of his captivity seeming to scream out sorely at once. “You thought you could stop this? You knew it was coming. What a shame that you left my side. Now, I’m afraid, the consequences have become dire.” He opens his bronze-armored palm, and Loki’s heart stops. Inside is his daughter, blue-skinned and red-eyed, screaming fit to shatter glass.

“Let her go,” Loki cries desperately when he finds his voice, every cell in his body vibrating. He feels as though he may burst. “Please, let her go, I have what you want,” And Loki’s hands move in dream-like slowness, retrieving the Tesseract from his pocket dimension and holding it out in supplication.

Thanos scoffs, reaching towards Loki with his empty hand. Instead of taking the infinity stone from Loki’s hands, though, he bats at it like one would at an annoying insect. The cube goes flying, and Loki watches it go, eyes wide in shock and terror.

“It’s useless to me now,” The Titan smirks, looking down at the babe in his colossal palm. “I have something better.” And, to Loki’s eternal horror, the Titan turns and disappears through the portal that appears behind him, taking Loki’s daughter with him.

Loki doesn’t realize he’s screaming until bile catches in his throat, and he chokes until he feels like he might die for lack of air. When his vision clears, he realizes he’s on his hands and knees, clutching at the bloodstained grass under his fingers like it might anchor him. Slowly, on hand and foot, he crawls to Thor, who is still broken on the ground, chest rising and falling in faint wheezes.

“Loki,” He says to him once Loki approaches, looking his husband over desperately. To save him would likely require all of the healing seiðr Loki possesses in his body, possibly more, but Loki will see Ragnarök a second time over before he gives up without trying.

“Loki,” Thor repeats, as if in a trance, as the trickster calls upon his magic thrice with no luck, too full of grief and panic to center himself properly. “Loki,” He says again, “Loki,” and Thor’s palm comes up to cup his cheek.

_“Loki.”_

The trickster awakes with a gasp, limbs flying out in every direction. He feels a weight lift off his chest, and when he opens his eyes, Loki finds Thor knelt above him on the bed, holding Noma hovering over his torso. She must have been sitting on him.

“Whoa, whoa,” Thor chuckles, and Noma squeals and kicks her little legs. “We didn’t mean to startle mother, did we, princess?” And he grins and sets Noma back on Loki’s chest, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Good morning, love.”

Loki closes his eyes, letting the tension drain from his body as he forces air in and out of his lungs. _A dream. It was only a dream._ The Noma who is settled on his chest is real and warm, and, when he opens his eyes, Thor is bright and uninjured, looking him over with a worried expression.

“Are you alright, Loki?”

“Quite alright,” Loki responds, bringing his arms about Noma and tucking her close, using the familiar scent of her to calm his racing heart. “Just a bad dream, is all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Thor asks, reaching up to thumb a sweaty curl from Loki’s forehead. He turns his face to kiss Thor’s palm.

“No, it was nothing,” He responds, though he knows it’s likely to be a while before he sleeps peacefully again.

“Well then, it is a day for celebration!” Thor declares, taking Loki’s hands and pulling him to sit up. “It is time to rise, we can’t waste the day away in bed!”

“And what is so special about today?” Loki questions, tugging his hair out of Noma’s reach when she makes to chew on it. Thor looks at him with a quizzical expression on his face before throwing his arms out dramatically.

“It is Noma’s name-day!”

Loki blinks widely a few times before throwing a palm to his face. _Of course_ he had known it was Noma’s name-day. He’d been equally looking forward to (and dreading) this day since the babe had been born. His daughter is an entire year old today. It seems impossible that a year ago today, Loki had given birth to the most important thing in his life on the cold, metal ship that they had called home.

“A year old, today,” Loki says softly, opening his eyes to gaze upon their daughter, who is currently sucking at her thumb with fervor. “How can this be?”

“It escapes me,” Thor says, coming to sit down next to Loki so that their sides are pressed together. “It seems only yesterday that you told me we were expecting a girl.” Loki leans into Thor’s shoulder and slips a hand over Noma’s wild curls, eyes soft. A year since Valkyrie had outed him, a year since Thor had proposed. A year since Loki had stood before his people with no armor to hide behind, no secrets.

“It seems impossible,” Loki murmurs, and Thor leans over to press a kiss to his lips.

“That, it does,” He agrees.

Valkyrie and Banner stop by their quarters later that morning with a nicely-wrapped box, handing it to Thor and slipping a letter to him alongside it. Noma squeals when she sees Valkyrie, hauling herself up off the ground so she can unsteadily toddle over, throwing her arms up. The warrior chuckles before lifting her, rubbing their noses together.

“Happy name-day, my princess,” She says, and Noma giggles brightly. She’s taken a certain liking to Valkyrie in the past couple months, one Loki knows he should be upset about, but he can’t quite bring himself to be. Noma will need someone of her own sex to turn to as she ages. Though Loki is dual-sex by nature, he can’t hope to answer any of Noma’s questions about her body as she grows. He had experienced that period of his life entirely male. He still doesn’t know how certain parts of his own biology come into play. And he could find a worse role-model for his daughter than a recently-sober member of Asgard’s most elite force of warriors.

Inside the box is the sweetest little dress, silver in color with a gorgeous golden tulle about the waist. A little card inside reads that it’s a gift from the Asgardian people to their princess on her first name-day, and Loki smiles as he lifts the dress out of its packaging.

“How do you like this, sweet girl?” He asks Noma, who makes grabby hands.

“Ah!” She warbles, and Loki settles her on the bed to dress her.

“You are cordially invited to the name-day celebration for Noma Lokidóttir, princess of Asgard,” Thor reads from the letter he was handed, and his face screws up in an ironic smile. “They’ve just invited us to…our own daughter’s name-day celebration?”

“So much for my plan of having a nice family dinner,” Loki grouses, but he’s not actually all that displeased.

When he’s done dressing Noma, he helps her stand, twirling her this way and that so the sparkles in her dress catch the light. She looks truly royal, and Thor takes a knee in front of her.

“My princess,” He murmurs, taking one of Noma’s tiny hands in his and kissing the top. Noma giggles.

“Dada,” She says, and Thor smiles brightly before dropping her hand to take one of Loki’s.

“My queen,” He says, and does the same. Loki fights the heat rising up his neck and tries to look unaffected, though the way Thor smiles at him lets him know that he’s failed miserably.

They spend the rest of the morning together, eating breakfast in one of the secluded nooks of Stark’s vast kitchens. Thor’s got Noma in her high chair, trying to feed her cereal while Loki cuts fruit at the counter, thoughts drifting off towards his dream no matter how hard he tries to belay them. He’s _not_ a witch, he’s never had prophetic dreams before, but something just seemed so _real_ about this one. It sits sour in his gut, and Loki doesn’t notice he’s cut himself until his body reacts automatically to the sting, knife dropping to the floor as he jerks his hand back.

“Ow,” He wonders aloud, watching his own blood slip down his wrist to land in droplets on the floor.

Thor looks up from where he’s cleaning the cereal from Noma’s overturned bowl and stands, alarmed, walking over to take Loki’s wrist in a light grip.

“You’re distracted,” He murmurs, using the edge of his tunic to clean up the twisting lines of blood on Loki’s hand before taking Loki’s pointer finger delicately into his mouth.

“Thor,” Loki grimaces, shuddering a bit when Thor suckles softly at the cut to clean it. “You know I can heal it myself, yes?” And Thor smirks a bit around his finger before pulling off, leaving a delicate kiss on the cut.

“I know, but mother always kissed my hurts better. I felt it helped them heal faster,” And Loki twists his hand in the air, spreading his palm wide after to show Thor the cut’s healed over.

“There is something on your mind,” Thor posits after he’s picked up the knife and cleaned Loki’s blood off of the floor. The trickster is standing by the window, arms ‘crost his chest in a thinly-veiled effort to hide his own self-comfort. He can see the meadows from here, green, lush, noticeably absent of dead bodies. That alone should be enough to assure him that they are safe, that his dream was just that. But still…

Broad, strong arms wrap around Loki’s shoulders and bring him back into a wide chest. When they were boys, all Thor would have to do to calm Loki after a nightmare was to tuck him close, murmuring that he was safe, he was cared for, Thor would never let anyone hurt him. The calming effect of his brother’s touch still holds true centuries later, and Loki relaxes back into him, letting out a long sigh.

“I don’t want to talk about it today, not on Noma’s name-day,” He says finally, tipping his head to let Thor press dry kisses along the side of his neck. “But tomorrow, I’ll tell you about it.” Thor hums in agreement and they just stand there for a moment, soaking in each other’s presences. It will likely be centuries more before Loki truly registers that he is here, with Thor, and that there is no need for them to part ever again.

“Mama!” And Loki startles, suddenly remembering that his daughter is, in fact, in the room. He turns to plant a kiss on Thor’s cheek before gathering the salvageable strawberries he had been cutting, spilling them over the tray of Noma’s high-chair.

“If we weren’t so keen on cereal today, perhaps strawberries will do the trick,” He says, holding up one of the slices to his daughter’s mouth. She opens her mouth like a baby bird, and Loki chuckles, sliding the fruit inside. The berries do seem to pass her fancy, and Noma begins gobbling them up while Loki settles at the table with a cup of tea. His stomach is still touchy, so he nurses the mug as he watches Noma munch on her breakfast while Thor makes his own.

“How many is that?” He asks when Thor settles next to him with a plate stacked high with something Clint had called “pan-cakes”.

“Seven,” Thor grins broadly, and Loki snorts, going back to the Midgardian “news-paper” that is spread over the table top.

There’s a whole section dedicated to the Avengers, and half of that is focused on Thor and his return. In Earth time, he’s been gone for a couple years now, and Loki disinterestedly thumbs through the pages until he comes to a full-page spread with Thor and… _Jane’s_ faces plastered all over it. “The Cross-Dimensional Love Affair: Over at Last?” the title laments, and Loki’s teeth grind a bit as he skims through the article detailing the demise of his husband’s relationship with the mortal woman. Jane has apparently been seen with an environmental scientist on a romantic date to the beach, and Loki scans over the blurry picture the author has set forth as proof. The photo could honestly be of anyone, and Loki takes a sip of his tea.

He promptly almost spits it out when he looks to the next picture, one that was obviously taken from somewhere near the compound. It’s just as blurry and indistinct, but Loki can in fact make out the two figures featured within: one is obviously Thor, in full armor, just having returned from a mission. The other, dressed in a green cloak with their black-haired head turned away from the camera, is _Loki._

“A New Woman?” the paper asks, and Loki has to force himself to swallow three separate times so that he doesn’t choke on his tea.

“Thor, _Thor,”_ He wheezes, and his husband looks over with cheeks full of pancakes. “Look at this.” And he flips the paper so that Thor may see. His husband takes a moment to skim over the page, chewing thoughtfully, before he swallows.

“Who might this new woman be?” He reads from the page, and Loki puts a hand up to his mouth to hide his chuckles. “She must be stunningly beautiful to have captured the God of Thunder’s attention. All in all,” and Thor looks up at Loki, smug. “Hopefully, she realizes how lucky she is to have landed such a hunk.”

A flick of his finger and one of the strawberries from Noma’s tray flies across the table and hits Thor square in the forehead. Loki is ready this time, though, and when Thor falls backwards with an exaggerated moan, Loki catches him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Oh, I certainly realize what a _hunk_ of a husband I have,” He coos, and they laugh until their stomachs ache.

Loki spends a good part of the afternoon trying (and failing miserably) to keep Noma from dirtying her dress. He ends up having to spell her clean three separate times, once after she had gotten into the schoolroom’s painting supplies and covered herself in blue-and-red. He can’t bring himself to be too cross at her. It is her birthday after all, and Loki lets Noma pat his cheeks with paint-covered hands to leave a blue print across his face. He then seeks out Thor, tugging his unwitting husband into a colorful kiss so that they match.

The party is in the evening, and Loki tries to tame Noma’s curls back into some presentable state for a whole half-hour before he gives up. “This is your fault,” He gripes to Thor, but his husband just grins at him. Thor’s hair has grown out a bit since he’d had it shorn off, and it now sits shaggy just above his ears. Loki conveniently leaves out how unruly his own hair can be when he doesn’t go to great lengths to condition it.

“What do you say, darling?” Thor asks Noma, who holds her arms up towards him. “Are you ready for your party?” And he picks her up, settling her on his shoulders. The babe squeals in delight and wriggles about. Just in case, Loki follows behind Thor, ever the worrier.

Heimdall awaits them outside the doors to the room that once served as the Asgardians’ living quarters, and Thor lowers Noma to the floor. He and Loki both take one of her hands, helping her stand, as the gatekeeper leads them inside.

“The royal family of Asgard,” He proclaims, and Loki wonders why they don’t just have Heimdall follow them around everywhere to announce their presence, “are happy to announce the occasion of the crown princess’ birthday.”

“Bah,” Noma adds, and the whole room breaks into applause. Already the people-pleaser, Thor’s heir is.

The room is lovely, decorated in shades of silver and gold with golden-warm fairy lights draped across the ceiling and down the walls. Tables line the floor, set nicely and filled with plates full of food. Asgardian and Avenger alike sit together, intermingling and chatting and laughing. Clint and Natasha sit with Svanhild and her group of healers, and the archer is telling a story with his hands spread dramatically wide. Natasha gives Svanhild a sideways glance, and the midwife brings a hand up to hide her little titter of laughter. Across from them is a table with Banner and Valkyrie, and, to Loki’s surprise, _Stark and the Captain,_ though Sam and “Rhodes” sit between them as a sort-of buffer. Loki’s barely seen Iron Man and Captain America exchange two sentences since they’ve arrived, much less sit in such close proximity. He thinks it’s a good thing. If what he thinks is coming is indeed coming, it will take an incredible show of teamwork to even weather the first wave.

“Happy birthday, little one,” And Loki looks up to see Wanda knelt in front of Noma, holding out a small wrapped box. Noma takes it in her tiny hands and giggles, letting Wanda help her pull the paper off. Inside is a lump of matter, not unlike clay, but each time Noma touches it, it shifts shape. First to a star, then a heart, and then a cube. Noma squeals in delight, turning it this way and that in her tiny palms as it rapidly shifts before her eyes.

“Impressive,” Loki says to the woman with a quirk of his lips, and Wanda winks at him.

“I had a good teacher,” She intones, and Loki lifts his eyebrows.

“I had a good student,” He replies, and Wanda goes pink in the cheeks before ducking her head. He’s been helping her bi-weekly with her training. The magic Wanda holds is not seiðr, though it is similar in some ways, enough for Loki to pass on some tricks and tips of his own.

People come and go with gifts. A few of the mothers present Loki with custom-made clothing, sweet little Asgardian tunics and dresses that Loki shows to his daughter. She squeals and claps every time, twisting her chubby fists in the fabric. Svanhild presents the princess with a second spelled block of ice, twin to Loki’s own. She hasn’t had any more bouts with the heat since Loki has begun shifting them both once a week, but it will certainly come in handy as Noma grows.

Loki is sitting at the head table, letting Noma stuff her cheeks full of cake, when Heimdall approaches. “Your majesties,” He bows, and Thor looks over from where he’s been having a conversation with young Peter Parker. “I would like to present the princess with a small token, if that would be acceptable.”

Loki blinks. “Of course it would, Heimdall. You’re high advisor to the monarchy, and very much a friend of the crown.”

The gatekeeper kneels down in front of Loki’s daughter, and the trickster suddenly wishes he hadn’t let Noma eat her cake right at that moment. He wipes at the sides of her mouth, but it does little to waylay the colorful mess over her cheeks and chin.

“My princess,” Heimdall intones, reaching into his cloak to retrieve a small item. “It is my honor to bestow upon you a gift once given to me by your grandmother.” And Loki extends his palm to accept the gift, rather than let Noma grab it in her frosting-covered hands.

It is a medallion, hardly larger than a coin. The small circle is set in gold and bronze, and engraved in the center is a small serpent, curled around a bright emerald that sits at the tip of its tail. Frigga’s crest.

Loki draws a thumb over it, awed. He wears a similar pendant on the shoulder of his ceremonial battle armor, on the side of his body closest to his heart. Noma has stopped eating, enraptured by the glint of light off metal, and Loki carefully drapes the attached chain around her neck.

It’s far too long for her now, and it hangs low by Noma’s tummy. Loki takes the chain and loops it once before refastening it around her neck, and the medallion gleams against Noma’s chest. Something just seems _right_ about it, as if it belongs there. Loki’s throat closes with a sudden pang of longing for his mother, and he downs the rest of the wine in his glass to mask it.

“This is…” Thor murmurs, reaching over to trace his finger along the twisting line of the snake. “This is wonderful, Heimdall. Thank you.”

“We’ll…we’ll take good care of it until she’s old enough to understand what it means,” Loki adds, busying himself with cleaning Noma’s face and hands to keep the swelling melancholy in his throat from cresting.

“I wish…” And damn, he’s failing miserably. “I wish she could be here. To know her granddaughter.”

Standing, Heimdall accepts a friendly hand clasp from Thor before turning back to Loki. The infinitesimal smile on his face is just about as much emotion as Loki’s ever seen him show.

“Her Majesty would have been extremely proud to see the royal family as it is today,” He says before taking his leave. Loki is left struggling in his wake, eyes wide. Heimdall has been nothing but respectful towards Loki since he’s taken Thor’s hand, but Loki always had some base suspicion that the gatekeeper was merely tolerating him for Thor’s sake. With that statement, though, Heimdall has effectively given Loki his approval. It makes Loki smile no matter how hard he tries not to, and he steals Thor’s glass of wine to hide the grin that forms.

An hour later finds Loki on his third glass of wine, watching Noma as she rolls around happily on the floor with Peter and a few of the Asgardian children. He and Thor have been accepting gifts on Noma’s behalf for the whole night: Clint had dropped off a sort-of rolling toy that Noma could hold on to and push along as she learned to walk. Natasha had handed Loki a tiny set of knives (“Never too young to start them on throwing skills,” She had winked at Loki. Thor looked halfway horrified, but Loki had smirked back at her.) Rogers had presented Noma with a little set of train-cars, (“I had a set like this when I was a kid,” he said. Loki hadn’t missed the far-off look in his eyes). Bruce, of course, had sheepishly set a tiny chemistry set by Thor’s feet, followed by Valkyrie, who placed a set of tiny reigns and a saddle for Noma’s favorite stuffed horse next to it. She shares a knowing smile with Loki when she stands, dipping her head as she leaves to continue her mutual endeavor with Natasha of sneaking bites of Clint’s food while he’s not paying attention. The archer’s face twists in confusion every time, and he looks suspiciously at his table mates, but they’re always deeply ensconced in conversation.

Last to approach is Stark, who scoops Noma up off the floor and settles her on his knee as he takes a seat across from Thor and Loki. Loki looks up from where Peter has been showing him photographs he’s entering in a school-wide contest and raises one delicate eyebrow at Stark, who grins back.

“What, I had to get my favorite kiddo a couple presents for her birthday, didn’t I?” And he produces a doll from behind his back. It’s got long, braided white hair and a blue dress, and Noma’s eyes immediately go wide, making grabby hands at it. Stark lets her have it.

“Uncle Tony’s your favorite, isn’t he?” He whispers conspiratorially to Noma, who shakes the doll back in forth in her fist and giggles.

“Mah,” She says, and Stark grins.

“That’s what I thought.”

Loki relaxes a little into his chair. With what he knows of Stark, Loki had expected some grand, dangerous contraption or a gift that was meant specifically to spite Loki. The doll is a welcome alternative.

“Oh, this comes with it,” Stark mentions nonchalantly, and slides a box across the table towards Loki. He takes it and frowns, looking it over. On the front is a picture displaying the white-haired girl of Noma’s doll, and another girl with ginger hair in twin braids.

“Frozen,” Loki reads off the cover, face screwed up in confusion. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s a DVD,” Stark replies, looking up with some difficulty from where Noma’s got a hold of his earlobe. “It will feed into the screen in your room. I just thought pipsqueak over here might enjoy it.” And Loki’s mouth slants down in a suspicious frown, but he can’t prove Stark’s intent, not yet, at least.

“Thank you?” He says instead, and Stark gives him a look that only stokes Loki’s uncertainty.

“Oh, think nothing of it,” Stark grins. “One might say, ‘let it go.’”

The party continues well on into the night, when Stark and Clint end up clearing the wine in favor of bottles of “the more hardcore stuff” (or, so Stark had put it). Loki finds Midgardian alcohol particularly weak, he’s had five glasses of the stuff and doesn’t even feel the slightest bit inebriated. Thor ends up scooping a snoozing Noma up off of Natasha’s lap about an hour past her bedtime, carrying her over to Loki. Their daughter looks a mess: dress rumpled, hair in an absolute tangle of curls. She’s got a tiny little blue plastic crown caught somewhere in the mess, and her face is still smeared with frosting of every color. But, Loki notes, she looks _happy_ , having fallen asleep with a contented smile upon her face.

“Clint said she must have ‘partied too hard,’” Thor murmurs as he bends down to press a kiss to Loki’s temple. “I’ll take her to bed. You stay and make sure no-one tricks a human into a drinking contest.”

Loki snorts softly, but pushes into Thor’s touch. “You’ve made the critical error of assuming that _I_ won’t trick a human into a drinking contest.”

“Loki,” Thor admonishes, but his voice is light, warm. The trickster waggles his eyebrows at him before snorting again and gently pushing him away.

“Fine, I’ll be the bearer of bad news. Now shoo, I’ve been wanting to participate in frolic and debauchery all night and you’re holding me back.”

“Not too much debauchery,” Thor says in parting over his shoulder, and Loki rolls his eyes. Thor knows Loki’s not one for making a drunken fool out of himself in any state. In fact, that’s more Thor’s modus operandi, but Loki is pleased to note that _that_ sort of behavior has ceased since Thor has become a king and a father.

“Just a little nude table dancing, nothing major,” Loki shoots back, and Thor’s responding grin is brilliant.

“Oh, if that’s all,” He says with a wink, though the effect is lessened with his singular eye. “Make sure someone records it for my later consumption.”

“Didn’t you say you were leaving?” And Thor smirks at him before turning and carrying their daughter out the door.

Loki does end up goading Stark into a drinking match, but he only makes it two shots in before the man shakes his head, dazed.

“Wait, wait, wait. I remember this from last time. Asgardians can’t get drunk off of human alcohol, can they?” And Loki smirks a little, twirling his shot glass on the table.

“I haven’t an idea what you’re talking about,” He says innocently, and Stark gives him the eye.

“Oh, sure, sure, Mr. ‘God of Mischief.’ Last time I drank with Thor, I ended up blacking out. I haven’t done that since I was a _teenager._ And the big guy was all ‘what, you are done already?’” Stark drops his voice in timbre to mimic Thor’s. “’Humans are so pitifully small and frail. Where I come from, this is like water.’”

Loki makes steady eye-contact with Stark before gripping the bottle the shots had come from and chugging the rest of it down without faltering. Stark’s mouth falls open, and Rhodey speaks up from where he’s been watching them from behind the inventor.

“Damn, even I can’t chug straight vodka.”

“That shit’s 170 proof!” Stark exclaims, and Loki has no idea what that means.

“God of Mischief,” He says in lieu of an answer, and Stark groans and drops his head down on the table.

The party begins to dwindle down an hour or so later, with people stopping to wish Loki a good night as they head off to bed. Loki is feeling at least a tiny bit tipsy due to the human alcohol making its way through his system, but he smiles and exchanges pleasantries with them all the same. Cleaning up is fairly simple, Loki joins the healers in walking the perimeter of the room, spelling away trash and folding up tables and chairs until everything is back in its proper place. It is then that Loki takes his leave, bidding the remaining guests a good night and thanking them for the lovely celebration.

Thor and Noma are both already in bed and asleep by the time Loki makes his way back to their rooms. Quietly, so as not to disturb either of them, Loki strips down to his underclothes before padding over to check on his daughter. She’s peacefully dreaming, with Stark’s doll clutched to her chest. Loki huffs and smiles a little before leaning over, pressing a kiss to her soft forehead.

When he goes to slip into bed, his husband rolls over, reaching out drowsily to tuck Loki close against his chest.

“Thor?” Loki asks softly, and the other man hums.

“No bad dreams, tonight, little brother,” Thor murmurs, planting a sleepy-slow kiss to the crown of his head. “I am here; I will protect you. I won’t allow anything to hurt you.”

Blinking into the darkness, Loki lies awake as Thor’s breathing slows and he dips back into slumber. It’s ridiculous, but Loki feels confident now that his rest will be undisturbed.

Loki’s dreams that night are of standing on one of the palace balconies with Thor, watching their little ones play and run about in the gardens.

And if Loki realizes upon waking that they only have one child, and in his dream he saw several, he doesn’t think much of it. He’s not a witch, and his dreams aren’t prophetic.

Aren’t they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it go...Let it go...Can't hold it back anymore...
> 
> Please go look at this fantastic art by @assgardianroses on tumblr (darkpixel here)! Leave the artist lots of love and join me in being so excited I could scream.  
> https://assgardianroses.tumblr.com/post/170425699399/fanart-promised-long-ago-of-the-fic-the-take


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is going to rip off his ears. He’s going to break every television in this complex. And then, he’s going to kill Tony Stark. In that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience, y'all! I had a hectic week, so I'm sorry this chapter is coming a little late.
> 
> In other news, this chapter is dedicated to @assgardianroses on tumblr (@darkpixel here) who drew some incredible fan art for this series! The scene in this chapter of Loki singing to Noma is directly inspired by their wonderful art. Go check it out at https://assgardianroses.tumblr.com/post/170425699399/fanart-promised-long-ago-of-the-fic-the-take

Loki is going to rip off his ears. He’s going to break every television in this complex. And then, he’s going to kill Tony Stark. In that order.

It’s been three months since Noma’s birthday. Three months in which Loki has been forced to endure no less than three showings of the human monstrosity known as _Frozen_ per day. He’d first popped the video into the large screen Stark had equipped their quarters with one day while he was scouring every ancient text Rogers could get his hands on for information on the infinity stones. Thor was out searching for more, and Noma had been toddling to and fro, returning to Loki to warble “up-py?” once every couple minutes.

“Not now, sweet girl, mother is in the middle of something,” Loki had muttered absently, and Noma had blinked her doe-eyes once, twice, before bursting into tears.

“Oh, hush, no,” Loki had scooped her up, feeling vaguely guilty. He abandoned the tome he was reading on the bed, pages thrown carelessly open, and searched around for anything to hold his daughter’s attention.

There, sitting forgotten on the nightstand, was the box that Stark had so generously given Noma for her birthday. Figuring it was better than nothing, Loki had started the moving picture up, relived when Noma’s eyes were almost immediately glued to the screen. She sat at the edge of the bed to watch while Loki had continued with his research.

 _Soul transfer_ , the next page was titled, roughly translated from ancient all-speak with Loki’s knowledge of the runes used before his time. This was a given, and Loki sighed, running his fingers through his now past shoulder-length hair. He’d seen soul transfer happen before, with Jane and the Aether, and, to some extent, had experienced it himself with the mind stone. It seemed the infinity stones did have a base level of consciousness, some sort of awareness, and thusly also carried an instinct for survival. In the face of duress, the infinity stones could bind to living hosts. The effect this had on the host varied wildly, between life force drainage and a god-like extension of power, like they had seen with the Aether. What happened was contingent on what the infinity stone felt it needed for its own survival.

_“Elsa? Do you wanna build a snowman?”_

Loki had blinked and looked up at the child-like voice coming from the screen. A quick glance at Noma found her still enraptured, thumb in her mouth, and Loki had set the book down again to settle her in his lap.

He’d liked the tale to begin with: an elder sister with ice powers, told to hide her true self for all of her life. Her younger sister, who sets out on a quest to find and help the other after she cracks from the pressure. In a reverse way, it seems like a very familiar situation to Loki (well, minus the talking snowman and handsome blond mountaineer).

After what has to be Loki’s three-hundredth viewing of said story, he’s not so sure anymore.

“Le’ ee gooo, Le’ ee goooo,” Noma warbles along with the voice on the screen, spinning about with her Elsa doll before losing balance and landing on her rump. She giggles and pulls herself back up to continue with her lovely serenade, and Loki’s comb catches in his hair.

Cursing inwardly, Loki gingerly works at the knot before putting a hand to the smarting patch on his scalp. His hair has grown long since Noma’s birth, now coming midway down his back. Usually, Loki plaits it or drapes it in a bun behind his head, but there are some days, like today, where he lets it sit free over his shoulders. He likes it this way. It’s freeing. Loki’s spent most of his life leaving his hair short because he felt it was expected of him. Now, growing his hair out long makes Loki feel like he’s been given some agency over the body he’s still trying to learn to fit in to.

Loki feels the prickle of magic against his skin, and the vanity stool he’s been perched on topples to the ground as he leaps up, alert. Turning, he finds half of the room covered in ice and snow, and Noma sitting in the middle of the crystalline patterns, peach skin starting to tint sapphire. It gives Loki pause, and he looks about, quietly awed. Icy pillars hang from the ceiling, casting the early morning light through the windows into a rainbow-hue. Icicles dangle like fairy-lights from the canopy over their bed, and geometric shapes trace along the floors to where they end at Loki’s feet. Queen Elsa slams the door to her ice palace on the screen, and Noma squeals happily. She must have been trying to imitate what she was seeing.

“Little princess,” Loki coos at his daughter, hands already starting to shift blue as he reaches down to cradle her in his arms.

“Mama, up-py,” Noma says to him, and Loki chuckles, settling his daughter on his hip.

When Thor returns from his mission, it is to his little Jötunar family settled in the midst of their bedroom, which has now turned into a veritable tundra. Thor blinks at him widely while Loki sends him a sheepish smile.

“I can fix this,” He says, at the exact moment Noma claps her hands and buries her father in a flurry of snow.

“Take your time,” Thor replies, muffled, and Loki can’t help but laugh.

Noma’s powers continue to grow and take shape. Nothing is off-limits, as Stark learns first hand when one afternoon a lapful of Noma culminates in all of Stark’s hair disappearing. Loki stares, wide-eyed and open mouthed, while the man continues to try and teach Noma some sort of hand game.

Stark looks up after it’s evident everyone else in the room has gone dead silent, and he blinks at Loki widely.

“What, what is it?” He asks, before adding, “does anyone else feel a draft?”

Clint breaks into laughter so harsh that Loki fears for a moment he might go into hysterics. Natasha smacks at his back, obviously trying to hide laughter of her own. Even the Captain seems to quirk a smile, coughing into his hand to hide the few chuckles that threaten to escape.

“Tell me you can change this back,” Stark begs Loki after he realizes what’s happened, eyes wide in horror. “ _Please,”_

“I don’t know, Tony, I think I like this new look on you,” Rogers says, smirk bleeding warmth into his voice. Stark looks at him and scowls.

“Watch it, mister, you’re still on shaky ground.” Rogers simply keeps smiling at him, though, and Stark groans and drops his head into his hands.

Lifting Noma in his arms, Loki puts on his best consoling voice.

“Oh, Stark, didn’t anyone ever tell you that hair grows back? You shouldn’t worry too much about it. One might say, ‘let it go.’”

“Is it too late to decide we don’t want him here?” Stark says muffledly, and Rogers gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Loki lets him sweat it out for a few more minutes before he reverses the spell.

Noma’s magic is charming and endearing right up until she starts throwing tantrums. She is past a year old, now, and in her process of forming a vocabulary, “no” has become her word of choice for just about everything. She doesn’t like the food Loki’s trying to feed her? Snowball to the face. Thor is in the middle of some kingly duty, and can’t pick her up _right that second_? His voice suddenly and mysteriously disappears until he pays some attention to his daughter.

Her least favorite is _nap time_. Noma abhors the idea of ceasing to be the center of attention for even a short period of time, so sleep becomes her natural enemy. She cries and screams and does everything she can to make her escape, even barely missing Loki with a bolt of lightning once, which, _hello, when did she learn to do that?_ She’s fifteen months old when Loki finally figures out something that works.

They’re in the middle of a meeting to put together all everyone knows about the infinity stones. Two new faces have joined their ranks, both men from a place known as “Wakanda”: a man named Bucky, scruffy, with brown hair pulled back behind him in a ponytail, and T’Challa, the king of Wakanda, a regal man who carries himself with an air of graceful importance. Loki is worried that he might butt heads with Thor, but that anxiety is waylaid by the fact that the two had come up with a personalized handshake within fifteen minutes of knowing each other.

Bucky takes his seat next to the Captain, who seems to loosen at the man’s presence. His smiles are more frequent, now, and his voice carries an air of ease. Stark, on the other hand, has tensed, shoulders strained in a rigid line. There’s history here that Loki doesn’t know about. He’ll get to the bottom of it, in one way or another.

All of Loki’s usual babysitting suspects had prior engagements in one way or another, (Hel, half of them are in this room), so he and Thor had to be _those parents_ and set Noma up in the corner with a few of her favorite coloring books and crayons. 

“If need be, they can bind with a host,” Loki says, flipping through the tomes on the table in front of him to find the diagram he’s looking for. “There’s a chance that letting the stones make a soul-transfer with a living being could obscure their signatures from Thanos for a short time, but it’s not a permanent solution.” He slides the book across the table to the Captain, who picks it up to study the inscription. “This is along with the fact that extracting the stone’s energy from its host after the fact is rarely easy and quite often an extremely painful process.”

“How much time are we talking, here?” Rogers asks, and Loki gives a slight shrug.

“Working off the information I’ve gathered, it won’t be longer than a year of your time, maximum. But he’ll arrive far before then.” Feeling a tug at the hem of the wrap-dress that he’s wearing, Loki looks down to find Noma at his feet, crayon smudged over her rosy cheeks.

“Mama,” She sing-songs. “Fr’zen,”

“Not now, sweetheart,” He replies, squatting down to thumb some of the color off of her face. “Go color some more, and we’ll watch Frozen later, I promise.”

Noma’s little eyes scrunch up, and her mouth sets into a pout that Loki knows too well. “Mama,” She repeats, voice rising in pitch. “Fr’zen!”

“Noma, no.” Loki says firmly. “Not now, but later. Mother promises.”

He’s expecting the splitting scream that emits from his daughter’s mouth. What he’s not expecting is for every water glass on the table to simultaneously shatter, sending their contents spilling everywhere. Loki curses brightly and waves his hand, cleaning the mess, while he scoops his daughter up into his arms. The humans in the room are bent over, hands cupped around their ears.

“Noma, Noma, _enough,”_ He hisses, but she continues to squirm, screaming fit to bring Ragnarök a second time. Loki hears Thor murmuring apologies as he stands from the table, and Loki sets to bouncing Noma, rubbing at her back in soothing circles. The urge to hum comes naturally, and he does, swaying them along to the beat his voice sets.

By the time Thor reaches them, Noma’s screams have lessened somewhat, now more petulant wails of displeasure than the cosmic force that they were a moment ago. Taking that as a sign, Loki searches his mind, switching from humming to singing as the words come back to him.

It is a song of a time long-past, spoken in a dead language that only few still remember. Frigga had been one of them, and the soft melody of her voice from his childhood often comes to haunt Loki in his dreams.

Loki rarely sings, unless the chants and incantations he must sometimes perform to cast spells count as such. He’d like to think his voice is fairly melodic, though, and he’s comforted as Noma’s cries trail off to silence. His daughter drifts to sleep not long after, lulled by her mother’s voice. Looking out the windows in front of him, Loki sighs. The sun is high in the sky. It is noon, which is about the time Noma normally takes her midday nap. She must have been getting cranky.

“That’s sweet,” Loki hears Wanda murmur behind him, and there’s soft words of agreement from the other Avengers gathered in the room.

“What is he saying?” Stark asks, and Loki’s lips curl into a smile.

Thor’s voice sounds behind him, warm. “Oh, it is a song our mother used to sing to us as lads. It is about hunting dead spirits so that they don’t peek through your windows at night as you slumber.”

“…Oh,” Stark says, after a moment of dead silence.

Nobody says much as Loki excuses himself to set Noma down for her nap.

A week later, Loki wakes to something suspiciously…warm. Pleasurable. He lets out a weak groan as his toes curl, and his hips push up of their own accord. Loki hears a soft choke, and the pleasure he’s feeling spikes, warm and liquid, up his spine. Eyes flying open, Loki shouldn’t be surprised at what he finds: there’s a suspicious lump under the covers, and his husband and conveniently absent from his normal spot beside Loki.

A faint smirk appearing on his face, Loki drops his head back and lets Thor continue for a while, until the addition of fingertips to his g-spot sends him hurtling over the edge with a choked cry. After a moment to catch his breath, Loki reaches down and flips the covers up.

Thor is looking at him with a wide grin on his face, remaining eye sparkling brightly.

“Happy anniversary, beloved.”

“Happy anniversary, you great oaf,” Loki breathes back, tugging Thor up for a kiss.

Thor has council that morning, and Loki is in the midst of working out logistics with a group of Asgardians who are interested in integrating into the human world, perhaps finding jobs outside of the complex. Though it is the year anniversary of their marriage, Loki doesn’t see Thor again until later that afternoon, when they meet to take midday meal together. As soon as Thor enters the room, Noma squeals and frees herself from where Loki’s trying to straighten out her smock, running to Thor as fast as her little feet will take her.

So much for being the favorite parent.

“There’s my little princess!” Thor crows, hefting his daughter into his arms and spinning her about. Loki leans his hip on the counter and watches as his daughter giggles brightly, burying her chubby little hands in Thor’s hair and holding on for dear life.

“Would you like to do something, to celebrate our anniversary?” Thor asks him after, while Loki is trying to spoon soup into Noma’s mouth with little luck.

“If you’re asking if I’m planning on returning your favor from this morning, the answer is an enthusiastic yes,” Loki replies, catching a drop of soup from Noma’s lower lip before it falls on her smock.

“That’s not quite it, though you are certainly welcome to,” Thor says warmly, passing Loki a napkin when he reaches for one. “I was more thinking about…a date.”

Loki looks up and frowns, head cocked. “A date?” He asks, wiping soup from the corners of Noma’s mouth. “What’s that?”

There’s a nervous lilt to Thor’s voice, one that reminds Loki of when he first asked Loki to stay and lie with him after their encounters as lads. He licks his lips nervously before continuing. 

“It is…my friends have described it to me thusly. It is when two individuals who regard each other…romantically, go and do something special together.”

“Like courting?” It clicks in Loki’s head, and he laughs a little. “Thor, you needn’t court me. We are already married, remember?” And they hadn’t ever… _courted_ each other, not really. There wasn’t any reason to, and there wasn’t any way to do so. What was Thor to do, go and ask Odin for permission to court Loki? Take him on romantic walks around the palace gardens, arm-in-arm, speaking of things that could never come to be? They’d taken such a quick-fire path from brothers to lovers that the idea had never even crossed Loki’s mind. Courting was for maidens of good temperament and breeding, those who would make acceptable wives and bear beautiful children. Loki was for fucking. Or, at least he was in those days.

“It…it is not just courting, per say. Though I do regret I never got to treat you thusly. I would have spoiled you.”

“Like you don’t now,” Loki replies, but his voice is warm.

“Loki, it has been…a while, since we have been able to spend time alone together. After Ragnarök, things happened so quickly. Your return, and Noma’s birth…” Loki lets Thor take his hand when he reaches out, and his brother’s voice is vulnerable again.

“I want to take you somewhere. Just the two of us.”

Moments like these used to be rare, when Loki held Thor’s fragile heart in his hands, so full and easily broken. Now, they have increased in frequency, though Loki still recognizes what a gift it is every time.

“Plan it, and I’ll go anywhere with you.”

The smile that Thor gives in response is blinding.

Setting Noma up with a babysitter is never easy. For one, when they’re free, half the compound wants to watch after her. Secondly, the babe still requires so much in order to remain happy, healthy, and safe. The bag Loki packs for Noma’s babysitters is heavier than the babe herself, sometimes.

“Don’t give her more than two of these,” Loki says, setting boxes full of small crackers and berries on the table. “And once she’s asleep, don’t feed her any more. We’re trying to get her to sleep through the night. If she cries, leave her to it. She’ll fall back asleep eventually.”

“I’m just supposed to…leave her to cry by herself?” Peter asks, looking horrified.

“She’s just gotten used to _someone_ picking her up every time she puts up a fuss,” And Thor makes an indignant huff from where he’s unloading the diaper bag behind Loki. “She’ll be fine. You’ll know if something is actually wrong.”

“How will I know that?” And Loki wonders, not for the first time this evening, if maybe a teenager wasn’t the best choice of babysitter.

“You just will.” Loki waves his hand dismissively. “Or she’ll freeze something over. Whatever happens first.”

He doesn’t miss the deep bob of Peter’s throat as he swallows harshly, and Loki takes pity on the boy.

“I’ve an enchantment that will let me feel if she is in any real danger. Don’t worry yourself too much.” Peter’s shoulders do seem to relax a bit, but Loki makes a note to have a word with Stark to be around in case something goes awry for the boy.

“Alright, princess,” He hears Thor say behind him. “It is time to let go. You will have much fun with Peter!”

Noma is clinging to Thor, brown eyes already bright with tears. In the past couple weeks, she’s been absolutely glued to Thor’s side, only leaving after much cajoling and promising that papa isn’t going anywhere. It makes Loki snort a bit at the irony. Not too long ago, Thor had been whinging about how their daughter hated him and only liked Loki. He wonders how Thor’s feeling now, with his constant knee-high hip accessory. 

“C’mon, No-my,” Peter singsongs, holding his arms out. “We’re going to play princesses! You can be Elsa again, I promise.”

Shaking her head hard, Noma buries her little face in Thor’s chest and grips at him like the world’s ending. Thor sighs and gives Loki a helpless look, and the trickster tuts and shakes his head.

“Come on, darling,” He says soothingly, carefully uncurling Noma’s little fingers from Thor’s tunic. “Papa and Mother are only going to be gone for a bit. Papa will be right back, and, in the meantime, you have Peter to play with! I heard that if you behave, Miss Valkyrie might even come see you.”

That seems to be the ticket, as Noma’s reddened face pops up after a moment. “Valkie?” She warbles, and Loki smiles gently.

“Yes, Valkie, but only if you let go of Papa and play nicely with Peter.”

It seems like the decision of the century for the little Thunderling, but she eventually acquiesces and lets Loki lift her from Thor’s arms, setting her on the ground. As soon as realizes that Thor isn’t about to disappear in a puff of smoke, she catches sight of Peter like it’s the first time she’s realized he’s present.

“Pe’er!” She squeals, and the teenager laughs and holds his arms open as Noma goes barreling into him. Taking Thor’s hand, Loki slowly retreats from the room before Noma can realize they’re leaving.

“You’re so good with her,” Thor murmurs as they head back to their quarters, fingers laced together.

“It’s because I understand the agony of being separated from you,” Loki deadpans, but Thor seems to pick up at the mite of truth that bleeds through Loki’s armor. His hand tightens around Loki’s.

“It is a good thing that we need not be separated ever again,” and something like foreboding lights up in the back of Loki’s mind, but he pushes it away for now.

Loki’s preferred female form is not too different from how he presents himself as a male. Her hair is still jet-black, but now it falls down her back in long, cascading curls. The sharp features of his face (his jaw, his cheekbones, the sharp jut of his nose) all round out to become softer, more sweeping. Her eyes are just a pinch wider, and the lashes that surround them are fuller, darker, just like the pout of her lower lip. She prefers her curves to be a little more modest, but still noticeable, sweeping from her newly-augmented chest to her wider hips in an hourglass motion.

Loki has taken this form many times before, for different reasons. At first, it was just because it was an option: Loki had mastered shape-shifting at a fairly young age, the magic came naturally, unlike the battle magic that had seen Loki locked away in the libraries for weeks on end, practicing from sun-up to sun-down. Then, it was to sneak from the palace grounds without being stopped by the family’s watchful guards. In these instances, Loki would often wander around the town markets, or make rounds in the vast forests just outside the town for new ingredients for potion-making. Once, Lady Loki (which is what she had taken to calling herself internally, though she gave the name Sigrun to others) had even run into a then-adolescent Thor, out with his friends after sparring practice. Loki was terrified for a moment when Thor’s eyes met hers, thinking she’d been found out. But after a moment of silence, Thor had approached her and introduced himself, and had been so taken with Lady Loki that she had spent the better part of an hour trying to lose him in the crowd so she could make it back in time to take her original shape for lessons with Frigga.

As Loki grew older, the Lady began to see use as a seduction tactic, a way to get information that she needed from those who were more…resistant to her male form. Loki vastly preferred to seduce as a man, though, finding himself more adept at using his…masculine charms to get his targets to reveal their secrets.

Throughout the centuries, though, Loki had come to enjoy his time spent in his feminine skin, and understand it was not just a form to take. Lady Loki is just as much a part of him as his Jötunn heritage, or his usual presentation as male. Loki now realizes that the prickle of unease he always felt in his own skin as a child came not only from his Jötunn heritage, but the fact that he was not always a _he._ Though he presents himself as outwardly male a good portion of the time, Loki thinks of his true nature as much more fluid.

“Not that I am not both pleased and surprised,” Thor says when Loki appears to him in a green dress that’s tight in all the right places. “But may I ask why you’ve chosen this form?”

Loki tips her head, purses her painted lips. “We’re about to go out together. As a married couple.”

“True,” Thor says, and Loki tries again.

“We’re about to go out together, as a married couple, on _Midgard._ ” She clarifies, and Thor opens his mouth stubbornly. “Ah, ah,” Loki says, holding a finger up. “Let’s think about this logically, Thor. We’re in the midst of trying to cull one of the greatest, if not _the_ greatest, threats to these nine realms since the beginning of time. Is _now_ really when you’d like to deal with the fall-out of the mortals learning about us?”

“You know I would be proud to be seen with you in any skin, Loki,” Thor presses, and Loki sighs, coming up to drape her arms around Thor’s neck.

“I know this. And I appreciate it, more than you could ever know. But tonight, I am more comfortable in this form.”

“…if this makes you more comfortable,” Thor acquiesces after a moment, and Loki brings their lips together in a soft kiss.

“I think this form could carry some…interesting prospects, as well,” Loki purrs when they part, smirk starting to form on her petal-pink lips. “Now, where are we off to?”

“You might want to dress a bit warmer,” Thor says, and Loki groans.

Two hours later sees them finished with dinner at a cozy little restaurant tucked away in one of Manhattan’s corners (no doubt Stark’s recommendation). Loki hadn’t been particularly hungry (her stomach has been a little touchy, as of late), but she had eaten a complicated sort of fish dish so as to not worry Thor.

The restaurant staff had been extremely professional, seating them at a private booth in the back so as to not draw attention. Unfortunately, the masses had still come, clamoring for a look at their interstellar hero. Loki is long-since used to Thor’s crowds of fans, which is why it surprises her when Thor declines to take any pictures or sign any memorabilia.

“I am sorry my friends, but tonight, there is only one who holds my attentions.” And Loki feels her face heat from where she’s tucked snugly into Thor’s side, sharing warmth through their Midgardian winter clothes. The crowd’s excited gazes, which had previously been affixed on Thor, travel to Loki as if this is the first time they’ve noticed the second presence.

Many of their eyes narrow, as if they’ve just seen someone they know but can’t place where from. Luckily, this is just about the time that one of Stark’s self-driving vehicles pulls up, and Thor carefully ushers Loki inside, promising the disappointed crowd that there will be many more opportunities to meet the Avengers. Loki finds it sweetly naïve that Thor doesn’t realize most of these people could care less about the other Avengers.

When they exit the car next, Loki blinks in wonder. They are somewhere far outside the city, where a path is lined with trees all strung up in beautiful lights. Some are just one color, vibrant blues and deep purples, while others are decorated in all the colors of the rainbow, glittering bright against the night sky. Even more, there are others that blink and dance in time to soft music playing from hidden sources.

Looking up at Thor, Loki finds her husband already watching her with a gentle gaze.

“Thor…” She breathes softly, awed, and he offers his hand.

“Walk with me?” He asks, and Loki accepts his hand, twining their gloved fingers together.

It is a pinch below freezing, but Loki finds that she can’t really feel the cold, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Thor down the winding path before them. The fact that she can see her own breath only adds to the atmosphere, if anything. Comfortable silence hangs between them as they take in the spectacle around them. Loki finds she particularly likes the trees draped in all-white lights. They hold an ethereal glow, one that seems warm and welcoming.

“I don’t think I tell you how much I love you enough,” Thor says after a while more, and Loki looks up from where she’s been adjusting her scarf.

“You tell me at least ten times a day,” She replies, slipping her hand back into Thor’s. “In fact, I can naught but fold a piece of laundry without you waxing poetic about my eyes.”

“It is true, though,” Thor presses, and Loki pushes up on her tip-toes to lay a kiss upon his cheek. Her female form is a good few inches shorter than her male counterpart.

“I know it is true. Don’t doubt it,” And she smiles a bit at the pink outline of her lips left on Thor’s cheek. “I hope you don’t doubt my love for you either, though I am less vocal about it.”

“I do not,” Thor confirms, slipping both of their hands into his large pocket for extra warmth. “I have seen your love take many forms throughout the years, Loki. At first, it was following me wherever I went, pitching fits when mother wouldn’t let you accompany me.” Loki’s cheeks glow pink, and she kicks at Thor’s calf a little as they walk. “Then it was watching me spar, tending to my wounds. Calling me an oaf and an idiot, which you still do, by the way.”

“If the shoe fits,” Loki says, eyes widened balefully.

“After, it became nagging. ‘Be careful, Thor’, ‘It’s cold out there, Thor’, ‘Take a cloak, Thor’,”

“You seemed set to get yourself killed at every possible opportunity,” Loki mutters under her breath, yelping a bit when Thor pinches at her side.

Thor hums, slowing their pace as they near what seems to be the centerpiece, a gigantic oak decorated with pure white lights, imitation icicles hanging from its mighty branches. “For a while, your love became harder to find,” He murmurs, and Loki turns her head up to gaze upon him. “But I found it, nonetheless. When you stabbed me on top of Stark tower, I could see it in your eyes. When we fought Malakith together, I felt it in your taunts. Your trust. The way you gave your life for me.”

“Thor…” Loki says, quieted, and Thor takes both of her hands in his.

“Loki, wherever you are, whatever form you take, I want you to remember this,” He says, cupping his hands around hers as if in prayer. “I will love you until my dying breath. Hel or Valhalla, I’ll follow you anywhere. You are, and have always been, my destiny.”

When Loki is done kissing him breathless, she pulls back to cup his face in her hands.

“You insufferable, unbearable, sappy, romantic oaf,” She says, and Thor’s smile holds the warmth of every sun in the nine realms.

“I love you too, Loki,” He says, and kisses her again.

“I had something made,” Loki says after she can breathe again, pulling a small box out of her pocket. “Stark helped me. I hope you…well, here. Just open it,” And she passes the box to Thor, watches him try to undo the delicate bow with the added bulk of gloves to his already thick fingers. Loki takes pity on him after a moment and helps with a flick of her wrist and a murmured spell.

Inside the box are two rings, polished silver and gleaming, made from the bangles they had crafted together when Thor had first proposed. Thor had spent the better part of the last week searching every corner of the compound for his, as he rarely took it off. Loki had delicately worked it free one night while Thor slumbered, aided by a little magic.

“I figured it was about time we let the general public know you’re happily taken,” Loki teases, though her voice is trembling a bit with some sort of ridiculous, unidentified nerves. Thor is silent for a moment more before a slow smile takes his face.

“May I?” He murmurs, and Loki nods, shakily removing her left glove and setting her hand in Thor’s palm. He carefully slides the ring onto Loki’s left finger, before lifting it to place a kiss against the skin.

“Your turn,” Loki urges, and Thor does the same, letting Loki slip the sliver band onto his finger. After she’s done, Thor twines their digits together, holding their hands up so that they can admire the rings.

“Thank you, Loki. I love them. Truly.” And Loki smiles, giving Thor’s hand a squeeze.

“Sorry I stole your bangle.”

“Oh, think nothing of it,” Thor teases, “I only spent five days in an absolute panic trying to find it.” He uses his free hand to shuffle around in his pocket for something, and when he pulls it back out, he’s holding a small velvet bag, though Loki can sense the enchantment on it from a mile away. Taking it from Thor carefully, Loki loosens the draw-string. Her fingers meet cold metal when they reach inside, and, frowning, Loki pulls the item from its packaging.

The bag must be charmed, because the flute Loki pulls from its confines is at least thrice its length. It’s a gorgeous, polished crystal, shimmering every color of the rainbow as Loki moves it this way and that in the light. This is Frigga’s flute. The very same that Loki had coveted as a child, watching his mother sit, elegant and serene, by her window, where she would play to the birds every morning. The very same that Frigga had taught Loki how to play, showing him how its sweet sounds could be entwined with magic of healing and rest. The very same that Loki had played to Thor many a night after campaigns of war, soothing away hurts and memories of fallen comrades.

“This is…” Loki breathes, reverential. “I thought it had perished with the planet.”

“I found it after I thought both you and Mother had perished,” Thor says quietly, studying Loki’s face. “I tried to play it, but I’m afraid I’m not any good.”

Careful to put the flute away safely first, Loki presses into Thor’s arms, bringing their lips together in a deep kiss. As Thor tips his head to deepen it, nipping at Loki’s lower lip, she feels the familiar tingle of transformation magic along her skin. When Thor pulls back, it is to Loki’s male form, blinking up at him softly.

“Hi,” Thor says, and Loki snorts at him, smacking at his arm.

“I’ve been with you all night, Thor, I’m the same person. I suppose I haven’t taken my female form for a while. I’ll have to take it more often so that I can hold the shape for longer.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind that,” Thor teases softly, taking Loki’s hand again. “You are quite fetching in high-heels.”

“Take me home, Thor,” Loki gripes. “Before I change my mind about repaying you that favor.”

They’re all over each other during the car ride back to the complex. The car is self-automated, so Loki assumes this means it doesn’t actually know what’s going on in the back seat. Though he has a creeping suspicion that the car is likely recorded for Stark, and Loki smirks when he thinks about the man having to watch Loki nibble at Thor’s ear whilst whispering all of the dirty things he wants to do with him.

They have to part to make it back to their quarters, and it’s incredibly hard to make awkward small-talk at passing acquaintances when all Loki can think about is riding Thor until all he can remember is Loki’s name. And how hot he is. These Midgardian winter clothes are stifling, even with Loki’s tendencies to run cold.

He moans in relief when they make it back to their quarters and Thor gets to work on the seemingly infinite amount of layers Loki is wearing, finally pulling Loki’s blouse and the brassiere he had been wearing over his head. When he goes to press his body to Loki’s, though, the trickster groans and pushes him off.

“I’m sorry, a moment,” He pants, bringing a shaking hand up to his forehead. “I’m roasting.”

“Are you alright?” Thor asks, concerned, taking a hand to Loki’s forehead. The trickster winces a bit at the touch, skin prickly and over-sensitive. Seeing this, Thor goes to pull away, only to stop, eye wide.

“Loki…” He says, voice carefully controlled, and Loki is suddenly alert.

“What?” He demands. “What is it?”

Carefully taking Loki’s shoulders in his hands, Thor turns Loki so that they are facing the full-length mirror hanging from their door.

Where Thor’s palms had been, there are blue handprints on Loki’s skin.

It takes Loki a moment of blinking wide-eyed at his reflection before something clicks in his head.

“Thor,” He breathes, blue already starting to race down his arms and torso. “ _I’m hot.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the next chapter going to be ~5000 words of heat!smut? You bet your bottom it is. Also, quick apology for how confusing the pronoun swap in this chapter probably was. I see Loki identifying as female when she's in Lady Loki form, which is why I used she/her/hers pronouns.
> 
> Hey y'all, just some business to get to. I'm realizing as my semester picks up that updating once a week probably isn't viable for me anymore. I work, and I go to class, and I have a couple organizations I'm a part of, so my life is pretty busy atm. I think I'm going to have to move this series to update bi-weekly. I'm sorry, y'all! I will try to get updates out as fast as I can, given my situation. I'll try to be better about keeping y'all in the loop through my writing tumblr, so if you want updates on the updates (haha), come visit me at tegary.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Loki,” Thor says, voice a deep rumble. He grips Loki’s chin between his fingers and gives a little shake until Loki’s eyes focus. “Do you want to have another child with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! Thanks so much for sticking with me as I move this fic to a longer updating schedule. I really appreciate everyone's patience and support! I'm starting to get pretty busy with University, but it's y'all that keep me wanting to come back and write more <3 I appreciate every single one of you. As far as this fic is planned, there will be two-three more chapters, which will make it longer than HMTOD! That's super crazy to me, as I hadn't even planned for this fic to originally have a plot. Thanks for letting me free my plot bunnies.

They have time, unlike before. Though need still courses through Loki’s veins like greedy fingers, it pales a bit in comparison to the wildfire that had once led to Noma’s conception. This allows Thor to take time pressing Loki against the bed, using the warmth of his fingertips to paint blue across Loki’s abdomen until the trickster is arching up, begging for more.

“Okay?” Thor breathes against his mouth, and Loki shudders, chasing Thor’s lips as he pulls back.

“Thor,” He complains, and the king gives him a stern look.

“I need you to respond to me, verbally,” Thor says softly, taking pity on Loki’s pout and bringing their hips together in a slow roll that has Loki groaning. “Loki, I intend to breed you this night, until you conceive again. I need to know if you object to this.”

Loki’s thoughts are moving at a speed equivalent to the thick molasses Frigga used to feed them when they were ill as boys. He blinks slowly at Thor, mind wandering to the friction between his legs, whimpering softly as it’s suddenly cut off.

“Loki,” Thor says, voice a deep rumble. He grips Loki’s chin between his fingers and gives a little shake until Loki’s eyes focus on his. “Do you want to have another child with me?”

 _Does he want to have another child with Thor?_ What a strange question. The answer has been yes ever since Noma took her first breath in this universe. Together, they’ve somehow managed to make the most perfect thing in Loki’s whole world, the fate that Loki now realizes his life has always been pushing him towards. Plus, it’s not like he minds the attention that being pregnant brings. Noma didn’t get her love of the limelight out of thin air, after all. Loki has to admit he enjoys the constant fawning and flattery that his baby bump brings, as well as having Thor at his beck and call at every waking moment. A darker, more primal part of Loki also enjoys the physical, tangible proof that his mating pair is secure. He basks in the looks he gets when he walks in public, round with Thor’s child, knowing that Thor isn’t quiet about the fact that he put it there.

But there’s something, some niggling little feeling, lighting up at the back of Loki’s brain. There’s a reason this is a bad idea. There’s something wrong with this scenario.

Loki has never been particularly good at listening to his own warnings.

“Yes,” He gasps, and Thor’s responding noise is triumphant.

“Perfect,” His husband murmurs, nuzzling just behind Loki’s ear, right where he knows the trickster likes it best. “Loki, I’ve been longing to see you round with child since you bore our first. If it was possible, I’d keep you pregnant always,” and Loki’s not so far gone that he can’t snort at the ridiculousness of that sentiment, which Thor silences with a sharp nip to his earlobe.

Though Loki’s body relaxes, submission coursing through his veins in an intoxicating rush, not much short of a miracle can ever still Loki’s tongue.

“I will never understand how you can prattle on so when you have me naked and wanting under you,” He complains, reaching down to stroke his own cock only to see the fire light in Thor’s gaze before he snatches Loki’s wrist up. “Get on with it, God of Fertility. I seem to remember you mentioning something about breeding earlier.”

“Though you have changed much, you are still an impatient little brat,” Thor snips at him, but his tone lacks conviction. Loki just rolls his carmine eyes and curls an imperious lip at him.

“You’re still talking.”

He probably deserves the stinging, punishing kiss Thor presses to his lips. In fact, he absolutely deserves it. Which is far from saying he doesn’t enjoy it. When Thor pulls back, blood shining liquid on his lower lip, Loki finds that both of his wrists are now trapped together in one of Thor’s broad palms.

“Stubborn thing,” Thor teases, using his free hand to trace along the whorls imprinted on Loki’s skin until he finds a nipple, plucking and flicking at it until it’s pert and full. Loki turns his head to the side and worries his lip between his sharpened teeth, trying to keep his hips from jerking up. He remembers little from his last heat, though he does know that he resorted to begging at one point. Since Loki hasn’t let the heat rage for too long this time, he resolutely promises he’ll use the extra sanctity of mind he has to keep himself from devolving into a wanton mess.

“You’ve lost your breasts since you stopped feeding Noma,” Thor comments, swiping a lazy tongue over the little nub. Loki shudders. “I miss them.”

“You’re odd,” Loki pants back at him, arching when Thor finally takes the nipple between his teeth and alternates between nips and soothing suckles. He makes a soft, frustrated noise when Thor’s grip on his wrists holds tight, snarling under his breath when Thor simply chuckles and moves to the other nipple.

“Let me go,” Loki whines, kicking his legs as much as he can manage with Thor’s weight astride them. His brother halts his assault on Loki’s nipples for a moment to sit up, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Come here, then,” he says, sitting cross-legged on the sheets, and Loki crawls to him, heat beginning to squander his higher thinking. Once he’s seated in Thor’s lap, the Thunderer kisses him again, this time deep and wet, making Loki moan and squirm against the hardness beneath him. He’s dazed when Thor releases him to latch on to his neck, which is why he doesn’t realize what Thor’s done until a long moment passes by.

His wrists are tied again. By what, Loki knows not, because both of Thor’s hands are traveling down Loki’s sides in broad sweeps. But somehow, without Loki noticing, Thor’s got him bound.

Loki moans, low and deep, and something in the air seems to change. No more is the atmosphere of playful banter and teasing. Suddenly, there is an undercurrent of need between them, and Loki physically feels the first gush of slick leave his body when Thor’s heated gaze meets his.

Thor’s hips roll up firmly, and Loki gasps and drops his head back, leaving his throat bared to Thor’s teeth and tongue. It’s going to look like Loki was attacked by a pack of bloodthirsty leeches in the morning. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thor doesn’t stop the rhythm of his hips as he systematically lays claim to Loki’s body, and the trickster works himself down against every thrust. They’ve experimented with bondage many times before, with Loki usually being the one tied up. What can he say? He enjoys having the power taken from him, sometimes. And Thor seems to like having Loki helpless and at his mercy. They make a good pair.

“Take what you need, Loki,” Thor murmurs against his skin, and Loki whimpers and keeps grinding down, cock trapped between them and rubbing against the hard plane of Thor’s abdomen. It only takes a minute and a sharp bite to the underside of Loki’s jaw before he’s hurtling through what he’s sure won’t be his first orgasm of the night.

Like his first heat, though, Loki’s release does little to quell the need boiling in his gut like lava. If anything, it only stokes the flames, and Loki wriggles in Thor’s lap, giving a breathless grunt.

“What is it now? Was that not enough?” Thor teases, finally relenting in his assault on Loki’s neck and collarbones. Between the sucked-in bruises and red patches where Thor’s beard has rubbed his skin raw, Loki is sure he’ll be a sight to behold tomorrow.

“I’m not begging this time, Odinson,” Loki growls at him, flashing his canines for emphasis. “So you’d best get on with it before I show you what an angry Jötunn really looks like.”

“You should know better than to challenge an Odinson,” Thor shoots back with a cheeky grin, and Loki’s answering snarl is cut off when he lands on his back on the sheets. His arms are still bound behind him, and he shifts a bit to get comfortable.

“Do you plan on untying me at any point?” He asks mildly, unable to stop the quavering of his voice when Thor nips just so at the meat of his thigh. His cock is already half-mast again, and Loki’s insides contract as Thor blows a gust of warm air at his entrance.

“After that last comment?” Thor’s grin is palpable against the sensitive skin of Loki’s inner thighs. “Not likely.”

Red eyes flash irritably. “Thor—“ Loki starts, but can’t finish his sentence, as Thor seems to find this the most opportune moment to duck down between Loki’s legs and go at the apex of his thighs like a man staving.

Claws biting into his palms where they’re fisted behind his back, Loki has to force himself not to kick out on instinct and nail Thor in the face (even though the dolt would deserve it). He drops his head back and gasps, arms behind his back holding his body up in an arch. Thor relents only to bite a trail down Loki’s thighs and then dive in again, putting just enough pressure on Loki’s stiff, aching cock to bring him to the edge, and then backing off to nose along his folds. He does this several times until Loki is a shaking, panting mess. By the fourth or fifth time, Loki finally realizes what Thor is up to.

“I’m not begging,” He says, voice wrecked. Thor flicks his tongue against Loki’s cock before pressing a kiss to his left thigh.

“Then you’re not coming,” He responds, and Loki groans and kicks his legs out over Thor’s shoulders.

“Neither are you,” Loki points out petulantly, rocking his hips up to try and get more friction. He succeeds only in knocking Thor’s chin with one of his hipbones. “If you really mean to put a child in me, you’ll have to relent eventually.”

Humming thoughtfully, Thor lowers his face just so that his lips brush the head of Loki’s cock with every exhale. “I’m not the one in heat, here,” and his voice is so mild, he could be talking about the weather. “Eventually, you won’t be able to stand it any more. How empty you feel without me inside of you. How much your body wants my seed so you can conceive my child.”

Not for the first time in his life, Loki considers spelling Thor’s mouth silent. It’s ridiculous that just Thor’s words, dropped in that deep bass timbre, can send heat racing down Loki’s spine. In the height of their trysts as lads, Thor could usually get Loki to open his legs with a look, with one whispered word. It’s ridiculous that Loki hadn’t realized just how deep he was in, back then.

“Come on, Loki, I know you want it,” Thor murmurs, trailing his honeyed words across Loki’s skin as he works his mouth up Loki’s thighs, his abdomen. “Don’t you remember how it felt before? My child growing inside of you, making you full and round? The whispers as you walked down the halls? They knew, they all knew. They knew what we were doing. They knew that the baby was mine, that _you_ were mine.” And Loki bets his tongue is bleeding by how hard he’s biting in to it to silence himself. “They knew you had me wrapped so tightly around your little finger that I’d do anything you asked of me.”

“A dangerous weakness,” Loki gasps as the path of Thor’s mouth reaches his already-abused nipples, suckling briefly before working up his darkened throat.

“And one that I have only for you, Loki,” Thor purrs, brushing their lips together in the briefest of touches that has Loki arching up for more contact. “Ask it of me, and I will do anything for you.”

“And if I were to ask you to stop waxing poetic and fuck me already?”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“I hate you,” and Loki hears the surrender in his voice. Thor must hear it, as well.

“I love you too, Loki.”

“Fuck me already. _Please._ ” And for a moment, it looks like Thor isn’t going to yield. But after shooting him an impish grin, he grabs Loki around the waist and lifts him into his lap, letting gravity pull Loki down until Thor’s cock hits home deep inside him.

The moan Loki looses is a mix of pleasure and relief, and he comes to bring his arms around Thor’s neck before he realizes they’re still bound. He makes a noise of distaste and wriggles his wrists against each other. He could easily free himself with a quick spell, but it’s the _principle_ of the thing.  Thor holds the power to free or bind him, just as he has the power to satisfy him or leave him wanting. This game between them has been going on for centuries. But, lucky for Loki, he always has a way to tip the scales.

“Untie me, brother,” He gasps into Thor’s ear, nipping at the lobe carefully with his sharpened teeth. “ _Please._ ”

When he asks, Thor will deliver without fail.

Steadying Loki with one hand on his hip, Thor reaches around and undoes Loki’s improvised bindings, which ended up being the leather strap holding Thor’s breeches. He tosses it to the side as Loki stretches his arms, getting the blood flowing again before he leans forward to wrap them around Thor’s neck. When he slides back down into the cradle of Thor’s lap, they both groan in unison.

Thor sits back and lets Loki take the lead for a while, controlling their pace. He rolls his hips in time with Loki’s, only as slow or as fast as the trickster decides. Normally, when he rides Thor, Loki likes to take his time about it, tease them both until he can’t stand it anymore. This time it’s different. Now, every time Thor hits home deep inside of him, Loki’s world feels _righted_ again, like he couldn’t ever be whole again without Thor joined with him in this way.

It’s not _enough,_ though, it’s not nearly as much as he needs, and Loki makes a frustrated growl as he crashes back down into Thor’s lap, rotating his hips to try and get him deeper. Thor is watching him, remaining blue eye clouded with lust, and he reaches out with both hands to still Loki’s hips.

The second their gazes lock, time seems to stand still for a moment.

Suddenly, they’re flipped, and Loki is on his back under Thor, legs thrown over his shoulders. His startled yelp devolves into a deep moan as Thor slides back into him, settling just deep enough inside him that Loki finally, _finally_ feels just an infinitesimal bit of relief.

Thor rears back, and his next thrust sends the bed frame crashing into the wall behind them. If Loki had any sanctity of mind left, he’d worry about the rest of the hallway hearing them. Now, his mind is filled with only thoughts of Thor, and he lets out a high keen as Thor brings them together again and again, each thrust seemingly more powerful than the last, until Loki can scarcely but breathe through the waves of pleasure that overtake his body.

A yelp from Loki signals Thor’s discovery of his g-spot, and the Thunderer angles so that each thrust nails the tiny bundle of nerves inside Loki’s body. It doesn’t take much longer before Loki is teetering on the edge, eyes practically crossed at the immense release he can feel building inside of him. With the last shred of sanity he has, Loki remembers the words to the counter-charm he needs. As his orgasm crests, Loki releases his enchantment against conceiving, and the room is bathed in aquamarine light. The roar of Thor’s own orgasm just barely registers through the buzzing of white noise in Loki’s mind.

He must lose consciousness, because Loki comes to at the feel of something warm and wet swiping across his abdomen. When he opens his sore eyes, he finds Thor cleaning him carefully with a cloth.

“Really that good, am I?” He jokes, and Loki doesn’t have the energy to growl. He just closes his eyes and makes a weak snort, pressing his sore body up into Thor’s touch.

“Is it over?” Thor asks after he’s done, laying on his side with Loki tucked securely against his chest. He’s tracing his fingers over Loki’s markings, lingering on the deep lines of motherhood that had appeared on Loki’s stomach after Noma’s birth.

“…I don’t think so,” Loki says after a moment of feeling about his body for any remaining heat. He still doesn’t feel entirely satisfied, contented like he had last time. “Though we had slept together multiple times early during my last cycle, we just didn’t know it. I’d wager it will take a little while longer.”

“Pity,” Thor snuffles into Loki’s hair. “I suppose I’ll just have to fuck you again, in multiple different positions.”

“If you’re lucky,” Loki drowses, though he knows he wouldn’t deny Thor.

It does end up taking two more days and sex in multiple (some very creative) positions before Loki collapses back on the sheets, utterly satisfied and exhausted. Sometime during the first night, Thor had snuck away while Loki slumbered, setting up care for Noma for the next few days. He had surely received many confused glances. Loki hadn’t asked, but he almost hopes that Thor had proudly told his friends exactly what what occupying their time.

He rests for another day before he feels strong enough to leave bed, and Thor carefully helps him shower and dress for the day. Loki is still incredibly sore, though he’s not complaining. While some of Thor’s earlier marks to Loki’s person are fading, there are still multiple bruises littering the skin of Loki’s neck and collarbones. He considers the merit of leaving them before vanishing all but a particularly dark one right at the junction between neck and ear. Just enough for a little scandal, not enough for someone to ask when he got attacked by a rabid animal.

Noma is in the main meeting room when Thor and Loki go to pick her up, playing with Peter and another young girl who Loki doesn’t recognize. She’s got dark hair caught back in intricate braids, and is wearing a stunning white pantsuit that looks more fitting for one of Stark’s fancy parties than playing with a toddler.

“Mama!” Noma squeals when she catches sight of Loki, abandoning the clay-like substance she’s playing with to waddle over to Loki with her arms spread wide. Delighted, Loki lifts her into his arms, (pointedly not wincing when his aching back gives a twinge), and hugs her close. The longest he had been separated from Noma before was a couple hours, so three days had felt like an eternity without hearing his daughter’s laughter. He spends a moment just breathing his daughter in before he plants twin kisses on her cheeks, handing her to Thor when she notices his presence.

“I can’t thank you enough for watching her,” Loki tells Peter, who smiles at him until his eyes drift to Loki’s neck. He looks startled for a moment, and his cheeks go flaming red before he averts his gaze.

“No problem, seriously. I love watching her, and she only had a tantrum or two. Nothing serious.”

“That is good to hear,” Loki says, amused, before his gaze drifts to the young woman sitting next to Peter. She’s tinkering with a series of glowing beads around her wrist, but she looks up to catch Loki’s eyes after a moment.

“I should thank you too, for playing with my daughter. Miss…?”

“Shuri,” the girl responds, offering her hand. “I’m T’Challa’s younger sister.”

Loki takes her hand to shake it. “My name is—“

“Oh, I know who you are,” Shuri interrupts, before making a face. “Sorry, that came out wrong. It’s just that you’re sort of a celebrity around here. We even got the news in Wakanda.”

“Mm,” Loki hums, before letting his hand fall back to his side. “And what are you doing here, may I ask?”

“My brother told me what’s going on,” Shuri says, standing and brushing off her well-pressed trousers. “About the infinity stones and all. And I think I’ve found a way to track the remaining stones based off of their unique cosmic signature. I just need one of the infinity stones in order to do so, which is why I came here.”

Loki blinks, tipping his head. Even Stark hasn’t been able to come up with a way to track the stones through one of his inventions. This young woman seems to be outpacing him already.

“Impressive,” he says, and means it. The smile Shuri gives him is blinding.

“I know,” She replies, tone matter-of-fact. “I’m just waiting for my upgrades to install in Mr. Stark’s computers. After that, I’ll be ready for my first trials.” Loki can’t imagine what Stark must be thinking about that. “I have a favor to ask, though.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrow. “Of me?”

Shuri nods, shifting from side to side on her feet, as if she’s too excited to stay still. “To make sure I’m setting my scanners to look for the right thing, I need to see what kind of residual effects the stones leave on their hosts. I need to account for interference from left-over energy in those who have connected with the stones biologically.” She smiles again, so excited and disarming that Loki doesn’t even feel defensive like he normally would when his ownership of the mind stone came into conversation. “Would you allow me to study you? You must have bonded somewhat with the stone you used when you attacked New York. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have listened to you.”

Ah, Hels. What harm could it do?

“Just let me know when and where,” Loki responds, and Shuri’s smile increases in voltage, if that’s even possible.

“Thank you so much! You’ll be a huge help with my research!”

Before he can ask any questions, though, Loki hears the tell-tale rumble of one of Noma’s whines beginning. It is close to noon now, which means she’ll be needing her midday nap soon.

Loki excuses himself and Noma, leaving Thor and Peter to marvel over the little hand-held blasters Shuri has pulled from seemingly nowhere.

Shuri must get her equipment in working order before she can study Loki, so the next few weeks pass relatively smoothly. Relatively being the operative word, because about three weeks after Loki’s heat, Stark comes down with something he calls “the flu”. Soon enough, Banner has it, and then Natasha, and then Clint, and within a few days the whole of the complex seems to be sniffling and coughing. This is how they learn that Asgardians are not immune to human illnesses. At least half of Loki’s people are sick, with the other half avoiding the medical wing as if their lives depend on it. Loki even keeps Noma confined mainly to their quarters, afraid of what an illness like this could do to her tiny body.

Even that isn’t safe, though, after Thor wakes up one morning running hotter than usual. Loki boots him to the guest bedrooms upstairs, though he does visit whenever he can find someone to watch Noma for a while. Usually, he’ll sit on the edge of Thor’s bed, trying his hardest not to breathe too deeply and wiping along Thor’s face and chest with a special potion made to soothe fevers.

“The mighty God of Thunder, brought down by a little cold,” Loki teases lightly, smoothing Thor’s sweat-damp hair away from his forehead with a cool touch. Thor presses into it, miserable.

“You know what would make me feel better?” He pouts, and Loki gives him a put-upon look.

“What would that be?”

“Some of that iced-cream that Stark keeps in the kitchens,” Thor says, and Loki gives an over-exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“I thought you were supposed to be getting things for me,” He says, but his lips are quirked up in a teasing smile. He doesn’t even mind when Stark berates him later for taking the last of his chocolate iced-cream.

Valkyrie has managed to avoid the illness, so Loki drops Noma off with her a few mornings a week in order to assist Svanhild and the other healers in the medical wing. The ones that are hit the hardest are the very young and the very old, and Loki’s heart gives a squeeze every time he hears the cough of a child. He thanks the Norns that Noma has managed to avoid contracting the illness so far, and prays that she continues to do so.

“And how are we feeling today, Taavi?” Loki asks as he kneels down next to the cot the boy is lain out on. Taavi turns his bright blue eyes on Loki, which, Loki is pleased to note, look more awake than they have in the past few days.

“Better,” Taavi says, sitting up a little bit to lean on his elbows. “I just want to get better so I can play ball again with Holger. We were setting up a tournament when I got ill! I hate just lying down all day. It’s boring.”

“Patience,” Loki admonishes, casting a spell to measure the boy’s body heat. It’s still a bit above average, but nothing to worry about any more. “Before you can play, you must heal.”

“That’s what my mom says,” Taavi pouts, and Loki suppresses a chuckle.

Laying a damp rag over Taavi’s forehead, Loki spells it with a healing charm before standing. “I’d say you’ll be better by the morning, and then you can return to showing Holger who’s really the best ball player Asgard has to offer.”

Taavi’s eyes light like stars. “You really think so?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think so,” Loki says with a wink. “Now get to resting.”

Loki sits down after making a few rounds, exhausted. He’s been quite tired the past couple days, which he attributes to all the extra work he’s been doing to make sure his people are safe and healthy. After a few minutes, someone sits down to his left, and Loki turns his head to see Svanhild wiping her hands off on her apron.

“How is it?” Loki asks, and the healer yawns and stretches before turning her attention to him.

“I’d say we’re through the worst of it. Most of the people that fell ill last week have started to recover. We’ll just have to be careful to make sure we disinfect everything. Wouldn’t want to go a second round with this nasty bug. How is his majesty?”

“Whining like he’s just lost a limb in combat,” Loki deadpans, before quirking a smile. “He’s doing well. Yesterday he managed to keep down some more solid foods, so I’d wager that he’s on the mend.”

“I’m glad,” Svanhild replies, passing her bowl of disinfectant liquid to Loki, who takes it with a grateful nod and begins to scrub his hands. “And you? Between your people and your husband, I’m surprised you’ve managed to avoid the illness.”

“I’m fairly tired,” Loki says, drying his hands off on a cloth when he’s done washing them. “I haven’t been sleeping very well, though, so that’s likely it.” And Svanhild looks him over, with that crinkle in her brow that Loki knows too well.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” He protests as the healer stands, spreading her palms over Loki’s forehead and murmuring a few words. When she opens her eyes, she looks a bit worried.

“You do have an elevated temperature,” She says, sliding her hands over Loki’s shoulders and down his chest to check for more ailments. “But no congestion or cough…is anything else ailing you?”

“Other than that? I suppose my back has been aching for a couple days, but that’s probably just from all of the leaning over I’ve been doing while checking on people.”

Svanhild’s expression goes thoughtful, before she seems to dismiss an idea with a shake of her head. “I’m going to watch you for the next couple days. I want you to tell me straight away if you start feeling like you may be catching cold. Yes?”

“Yes,” Loki agrees, a little amused. Svanhild had phrased it like a question, but he knows he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Now, back to your husband and child. We have enough healers down here for the rest of the night. I want you to take it easy tomorrow. No dashing about like you’ve been doing this week, though we do appreciate it.”

“Anything for you, Svanhild,” Loki says, and the old woman gives a little huff of breath and waves him off. As Loki stands, his world seems to shift a little, and he winces at the sudden nausea that wells up in his stomach.

“Are you alright, Majesty?” Svanhild asks, standing to put a steadying hand on Loki’s elbow. He blinks, taking a deep breath until the queasiness fades.

“Just fine,” Loki replies. Interesting. He may just be falling ill, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, poor Loki, he's getting sick...;)
> 
> I will be traveling within the next two weeks, but I have a nice, long, seventeen-hour bus ride ahead of me, so the goal is to update again this time in two weeks! Keep an eye on tegary.tumblr.com for more specifics about updates. Thanks y'all!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bond between mother and daughter is such that Noma has always been able to sense when Loki’s in distress, so she pats at his cheeks as he hurries down the vast hallways of the complex and warbles “Mama? Mama?” But Loki is not listening. His thoughts are racing past his consciousness in unintelligible snippets, only conveying horror and panic and crushing, soul-rending guilt, and he rounds the corner into the living quarters with his heart in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y’all! Welcome to the surprise update (and I call it that because it surprised me too, haha!) This chapter is where the plot really picks up, and I’m so excited to share it with y’all. This is a fairly short chapter, about half as long as the others, but I really felt that I had hit an appropriate end to the chapter. It’s also quite the wild ride, so perhaps you can take this shorter chapter to catch your breath!
> 
> About fifteen things are about to happen in quick succession, so take a deep breath and let's dive in!

“So what do you want me to do?” Loki asks, settling in a chair with Noma on his lap. She’s got her tiny fingers buried in Loki’s hair, trying to imitate the intricate braids that Loki has begun to plait her wild corn-silk hair back into.

Shuri looks up from where she’s got her arms elbow-deep in various electrical equipment, some sort of transparent blue screen obscuring her eyes. “Just sit,” She says around the screwdriver she has between her teeth. “I just have to finish a few things up, and then I’ll be with you.”

Stark’s labs have transformed greatly since Loki was last inside: all of the half-finished projects and gutted failures that once littered the many workbenches are now nowhere to be seen. The screens which display numbers and diagrams that make Loki’s head hurt are no longer physical in nature: they’re all hologram projections of light, imposed over the newly-white walls and ceiling. The various Iron Man suits that once lined the perimeter of the room on stands are now displayed neatly in a couple rows of display cases. Loki finds he far prefers this set up.

“Mama?” Noma asks, and Loki looks down to where she’s curled up in his lap, resting her cheek against his abdomen. He smooths an errant curl back behind her ear, giving a soft smile.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“In here?” She warbles, and Loki blinks. She’s got her little face smushed up against his belly.

“In here?” He repeats, and she nods her head enthusiastically. “Ah, mother’s breakfast, I suppose.”

“In here,” Noma says again, and Loki tips his head at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re a silly girl. There’s nothing in there but some fruit.” And he pokes at Noma’s belly, causing her to squeal and squirm. “In here? What did Noma have for breakfast?

“Pancakes!” Noma cheers, and Loki grins, tickling Noma for a moment more to watch her giggle and smile. She’s become a little mini-Thor in the past couple months, insisting on eating everything Papa eats and doing everything Papa does. Loki has even fashioned her a little cape to match the half-one that Thor wears across the shoulders of his armor. She’s got it on now, on top of the bright green dress she’s insisted upon wearing for the past three days.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” Shuri says, and Loki looks up to see her standing in front of him, holding a palm-sized device that’s connected to the screen in front of her eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have you set the little one down. The scanning process should be harmless for adults, but I haven’t tested it for children quite yet.”

Looking down at Noma, Loki lifts her up so he can press a kiss to the tip of her nose. She wrinkles it up and giggles. “Mother has to do something for a moment, darling, so can you go play over by the table? Your dolls are in the bag. It won’t be a minute.”

“Kiss?” Noma asks, and Loki smiles before offering his left cheek, to which Noma presses a great smacking kiss before turning her own cheek to Loki. He does the same, before settling Noma on the floor and watching her waddle towards her toys. It’s a little ritual they’ve come up with recently, one Noma insists they do whenever they have to part from each other, even if it’s just across the room. Loki finds it unbearably endearing.

Once he’s sure Noma is settled down with her toys (they’re tiny depictions of Iron Man and Captain America, but Noma insists they call them dolls. It’s not like Loki cares much what she calls them, though it was particularly amusing to see Stark’s cheeks go pink when he first heard it), Loki turns back to Shuri. The screen in front of her eyes is now whirring with shapes and colors, so fast that Loki can scarce but register them all. Shuri moves her eyes to one of the patterns on the glass, and the device in her hands whirrs to life.

“Sit still,” Shuri coaches, and Loki does, hands folded awkwardly in his lap since he doesn’t know what else to do with them. Suddenly, a light comes from the little sphere in Shuri’s hands, panning the room in a cross-hatch of lines. It’s oddly enrapturing, and Loki watches it, awed, until it disappears.

More numbers and shapes go whirring past Shuri’s face on her screen, and Loki has long-since given up on trying to figure out what they mean. The downwards tilt the Princess’s mouth has taken, however, gives Loki pause.

“What is it?” He asks, feeling strangely nervous, and Shuri shakes her head a little.

“It must still be buggy. It’s registering a second presence with residual energy in the room. Let me try another scan.” And the light appears again, making another pass around the room. Shuri’s face hasn’t changed by the second time, though, and Loki frowns along with her.

“Sorry, I don’t know why it’s doing this.” And she studies the screen in front of her face, seeming to move it at will with just a flick of her eyes. Loki looks over to Noma, who is acting out her favorite scene with the dolls: a wedding, and she seems to be entirely uninterested in anything going on around her.

“Kiss bride,” She says, before rubbing the dolls’ faces together. “Mwah!”

Wait until Stark and the Captain see that for the first time.

“Okay, I just set the scanner to ignore the signature of the mind stone,” Shuri says, before lifting the device again. “My scanner is picking up the presence of a different stone. It may not be malfunctioning after all.” And she triggers the scanning process a split second before Loki realizes what’s going on.

“Wait—“ He starts, but it’s no use, the light is already sweeping the room again. When it disappears, something akin to a bull’s-eye appears on the screen in front of Shuri’s eyes, and Loki lets out the breath he’d been holding in. He supposes he was going to have to tell everyone about the Tesseract eventually. He was just hoping, vainly, that he might have kept it a secret so that Thor wouldn’t find out about his grand plan to save Thor and Noma’s lives by self-sacrifice. Oh, well. Loki reckons they were overdue for an argument. The last one they had was over whether or not _two_ was an acceptable age to begin training Noma in channeling the lightning she obviously possesses.

However, Shuri does not look at Loki. Rather, to his abject horror, she slowly turns her head to look at Noma, and the device she’s holding in her hand gives a little ping. The puzzle pieces in Loki’s brain fall together.

He’s out of his chair in seconds, scooping Noma into his arms and ignoring her little yelp of confusion when she drops her dolls in surprise. Shuri still seems to be processing what she’s just discovered, and it gives Loki just enough time to duck past her and towards the exit.

“Wait—“ She finally says, and Loki tucks Noma close, not turning to look back.

“Sorry, I’ve just remembered there’s somewhere really important we have to be!”

The bond between mother and daughter is such that Noma has always been able to sense when Loki’s in distress, so she pats at his cheeks as he hurries down the vast hallways of the complex and warbles “Mama? Mama?” But Loki is not listening. His thoughts are racing past his consciousness in unintelligible snippets, only conveying _horror_ and _panic_ and _crushing, soul-rending guilt_ , and he rounds the corner into the living quarters with his heart in his throat.

Settling Noma on the bed, Loki reaches blindly into his pocket dimension until he grabs onto something solid, and pulls the Tesseract out into reality. Just as he expects to find, the stone’s blue light has dimmed in its casing, almost like the power is draining, being transferred to something, some _one._ Cupping the casing in his shaking hands, Loki slowly holds the stone out to his daughter.

Noma blinks at it, brown eyes wide and tinted blue with the glow of the stone. The same color Loki had seen entwined with his own aura when he was pregnant with her, the same color that Noma’s presence projects in the Tree of Life. Tipping her head, she slowly reaches her chubby little fingers out, and presses them against the glass casing of the Tesseract. She blinks once, twice, before the rest of the light fades. When Noma looks up at Loki, her eyes are Marian blue.

The last thing Loki hears before his world goes black is the high, scared voice of his daughter.

 

“Noma,” Loki gasps as he wakes, sitting straight up out of the swirling miasma of his comatose state. There are hands at his shoulders, and he fights against them until he registers the voice speaking to him, the face in front of his own.

“Majesty,” Saga, one of Svanhild’s junior healers says. “Majesty, it’s alright. You are in the healing room. You are safe.”

The realization only serves to drain Loki of a little of his panic. “Where is my daughter?”

“Svanhild came to check on you, because she was worried you might be falling ill,” Saga says, letting go of Loki’s shoulders as he slowly lies back down on the bed. “When she found you unconscious, she called for us and the Valkyrie. Your daughter is with her.”

“Where’s Thor?” Loki asks after a moment, relieved, for now, that Noma is safe. Saga looks up from where she’s been running tests on one of the glass tablets Stark had supplied the healers with.

“He is on his way now. Svanhild went to alert him after she was sure you were stable.”

“Bring Heimdall as well.”

“Your Majesty?” Saga questions, but Loki shakes his head sharply.

“Bring Heimdall as well.”

After a moment more, Saga dips her head and rushes out of the double-doors behind them, leaving Loki alone with his thoughts. What has he _done?_ He should have seen it from the start. Noma is powerful, incredibly powerful, _too powerful_ for a child of her age, even with her parentage. Thor had not begun to manifest his powers until he was at least six or seven, and it took Loki until ten before he was able to control his seiðr precisely enough to do anything close to bending lightning or snow to his will. Loki’s pocket dimension is an extension of him, a cluster of his magic, and so he had been exposing Noma to the Tesseract’s energy the whole time he had been pregnant with her. It’s no wonder that the stone reached out to her. It is one of the only stones not yet possessed by Thanos, it must have realized it needed a biological host to evade his intentions.

Loki had let his daughter become a host for an infinity stone.

When Thor comes bursting through the double-doors, he rushes straight to Loki, running his hands over his face and chest as if to reassure himself that Loki is still alive. Loki, however, is focused only on one presence: Heimdall, who had entered the room after his King.

“Loki, what happened, are you alright?” Thor asks breathlessly, leaning down to place a great kiss on Loki’s forehead. “Where—“

“Gatekeeper,” Loki barks, and Thor flinches before blinking in confusion. Heimdall simply turns his twin-galaxy eyes on Loki, blinking serenely as the trickster sits up.

“Yes, my Queen.”

“You can see all, can you not?” Loki asks sharply, hands beginning to shake in barely-contained rage. Heimdall tips his head slowly, seemingly appraising Loki, before he speaks again.

“I can.”

“My daughter,” Loki starts, before he has to pause to take a deep breath and still his trembling voice. “My daughter has become host to the Tesseract.” And Thor goes stock-still above him, scarcely breathing.

Heimdall is silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. They drop in a calm bass timbre. “Yes.”

Loki is on his feet in seconds, fighting the black that eats at the edge of his vision with sheer willpower and protective rage. “You knew,” He accuses, already feeling an all-too-familiar chill begin to eat at his fingertips, sending shivers up his spine as blue begins to race across his skin. “You knew what was happening, and you didn’t tell us!”

“You should know better than most, Majesty, that the threads of the Norns cannot be unwoven once they are cast. I did not tell you because your daughter’s future is clear and untroubled. She lives long.”

“She’ll live long because I’m not going to let that madman lay a hand on her!” Loki snarls, elongated canines bared in a desperate threat. “She is two years old, Heimdall, and you’re fixed to let her fight in a war that she should have never been involved in in the first place!” And Loki barely registers the frost, the bite in the air that has started to become palpable. His fingertips are sharp with icicles, and if Loki has ever felt the primal urge to _kill_ , now is that time.

“Loki,” Thor says, seeming to have finally snapped out of his initial shock. He puts a hand on Loki’s shoulder, and Loki barely remembers to throw his wards up before Thor’s skin touches his. Loki looks back at him, chest heaving, red eyes wide and panicked. Thor doesn’t look so calm himself, but he does anchor Loki enough that the icicles melt from his claws.

“I don’t want to catch sight of you,” Loki snarls at Heimdall, voice laced with promise. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way.”

This is, of course, the time that Svanhild decides to reappear, glass tablet in her hands. She pauses when she takes in the scene, but must decide that whatever she has to say is important enough.

“Your Majesty—“ She starts, but Loki isn’t finished yet.

“Not now, Svanhild.”

“But your majesty—“

“Not now, Svanhild!” Loki roars, before he snaps back to himself. The damage has been done though, and Svanhild startles, dropping the tablet clutched in her hands. Loki barely throws his hand out in time to stop the glass from hitting the floor, and he levitates it back up into Svanhild’s grip, guilty. His shoulders droop as the fight drains from his body.

“I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, I—“ And Svanhild shakes her head smally, holding out a hand. Loki stills.

“I ran a scan on you when you were unconscious. I wanted to make sure that there wasn’t anything that needed immediate attention. Your majesty…” And Svanhild looks to Heimdall, who takes the hint and dips his head, leaving the way he came. Loki isn’t done with him yet, but he’s suddenly exhausted. “You should see this.”

Loki looks to Thor, who still looks uncertain and confused, but he gives Loki’s shoulder another squeeze before letting him go. Loki approaches Svanhild, who carefully hands the glass tablet to him. He looks it over, blinking dumbly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“It’s…” And Svanhild shakes her head, seems to gather courage. “Majesty, this is your heart beat.” And she points to a small circle pulsating on the screen, pulse steady and strong. This must have been taken while Loki was unconscious, he thinks sardonically. “And these…” She points to just under that, where two similar, smaller circles are pounding. “These are…”

Loki can feel all of the blood drain from his face, and he goes light-headed again. Thor rushes to catch him before he can hit the ground, however, and Loki desperately clings to consciousness.

“Loki?” Thor asks, voice pitched higher with worry. The trickster shakes his head once, twice, before he turns to look at Svanhild.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not, Majesty,” the healer says softly, before moving to Loki’s side, enlarging the image so that he can see the two twin heartbeats, beating out a rhythm in sync. He watches them, awed, for a moment, before Thor speaks up.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” He says, and Loki carefully hands the tablet back to Svanhild before turning to Thor, cupping his face in his hands.

“Twins, Thor,” He says softly. “We’re going to have twins.”

On this day, Loki has seen his daughter complete a bond with the Tesseract. He has seen the heartbeats of the twin babes that are growing inside of him. But, somehow, neither of them end up being the most surprising thing he’s seen. No, the most surprising thing Loki sees on this day is Thor, his elder brother, King of Asgard and God of Thunder, pass out in a dead faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m fairly sure a couple chapters back somebody called this, but I’ve been planning twins for these poor schmucks ever since I decided to write a sequel. Somebody totally left a comment about twins on chapter three or four, though, and I just had to smile to myself and tactfully avoid answering that part of the comment. Y’all are psychic!
> 
> Tl;dr for this chapter: Noma is the Tesseract’s host. Loki faints. Loki is pregnant with twins. Thor faints. Generally, lots of important plot points and fainting.
> 
> Also, never trust me when I give chapter estimates. There will be more than one more chapter. Just ignore me when I try to estimate how many are left, hahaha.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark doesn’t seem convinced. He’s standing now, arms crossed and hip against the high-backed chair he’d been settled in. His whole body is one sharp, tensed line. “Whether or not he merged it with Noma on purpose,” He says, corners of his mouth drawn tight. “He came here in possession of an Infinity Stone and kept the fact from all of us. We’ve been searching high and low for those things for the past year, because some lunatic with a Nintendo Power Glove is trying to use them all to, I don’t know, destroy the entire universe as we know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go! It's kind of nuts to me how much positive feedback this sequel has been getting, so I just wanted to thank all of y'all and let you know that I'm so happy that you're enjoying! The Thorki fandom is full of such wonderful, fantastic souls, and I am so happy to be a part of it <3

They go to pick up Noma from Valkyrie as soon as Svanhild clears Loki in the medical wing. Along with the fact that he had just received possibly the worst news of his entire life, apparently fainting during pregnancy is fairly common due to an influx of hormones affecting the blood vessels.

Valkyrie, of course, has questions when they arrive, mainly centered around the fact that Noma’s eyes, once warm and honey-brown, are now the celeste blue of the Tesseract. Loki is a man on a mission, though, and he ignores her inquiries entirely as he scoops a sleeping Noma up off the rug in front of Valkyrie’s fire place. Thor is left to stumble through an excuse while Loki sweeps out of the room, daughter tucked close to his chest.

He—he doesn’t even have time to think about the pregnancy now, what with the bigger problem that is currently staring him in the face: inside his daughter now slumbers the power of an infinity stone, an infinity stone that is being ruthlessly hunted by the most terrifying being Loki has encountered in his long, long years of living. He sits heavily on the bed when he enters their living quarters, gathering Noma up close and burying his face in her hair. This is his fault. This is _his_ fault. He has put his daughter directly in harm’s way, and for what? So that he could feel like he had an infinitesimal amount of control over the situation he’s in? What good was the Tesseract going to do, really, against a being as old and powerful as the nine realms themselves? Loki was fooling himself if he thought he had any chance of bargaining with Thanos. The Mad Titan would have likely killed Loki where he stood and fished the Tesseract out of the miserable presence that remained.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he has to gasp for breath, a wet, wrecked sound that’s foreign to even Loki’s own ears. Noma is beginning to wake, squirming around softly in Loki’s grasp, making quiet coos of confusion. Loki tries to dry his tears before his daughter can notice, but the effort is in vain, and Noma’s little brow wrinkles in distress.

“Mama…” She murmurs, and pats Loki’s cheeks gently, jewel-blue eyes searching his with an amount of concern far beyond her years. Loki can barely stand to hold her gaze. It reminds him too much of the mistakes he’s made, of his own eyes whilst he was under Thanos’ control. But when he drops his head, Noma pushes her palms into his cheeks and makes him look back up again, mouth set in a frown.

“Kiss,” She says, and Loki blinks at her dumbly for a moment before he offers his cheek, to which Noma presses a particularly enthusiastic kiss. When she turns her own cheek to Loki, he does the same, smoothing a kiss over the soft skin before gathering her up close, tucking Noma under his chin like he might be able to protect her from the world with his own body.

Someone clears their throat softly, and Loki looks up to find Thor leaning against the doorframe, watching them with a quiet sadness upon his face. Weakly, Loki extends an arm out to him, and his husband approaches, gathering his tiny family up into his arms. They stay like that for a while, simply holding each other, insulated from the world and the war and the million things that seem to be going awry in tandem.

Once Loki’s tears have dried, he sits between the V of Thor’s legs, back pressed against his husband’s chest. Noma sits on Loki’s lap, suckling her thumb, back to her usual carefree self. She seems unaware that she has effectively just absorbed a portion of the universe into her tiny body, and Loki is relieved that she at least does not feel the splitting pain he had when the mind stone had attempted to merge with him.

“Tell me what you’ve learned,” Thor urges softly after a moment, and Loki sighs, gathering Noma’s hair behind her head to begin a plait. It’s as if he fears that his daughter will go up in smoke if he doesn’t have a hand on her at all times.

“I…the pocket dimension I keep the Tesseract in is an extension of my own being,” He sighs shakily, carefully working a knot free from Noma’s golden curls. “It is a portion of my magic that I have purposefully put aside in order to hide the stone. It is…hard to explain, but it means the stone is never far from me. It is with me always, hidden in the slice of the universe my being occupies.” His shaking fingers drop the braid, and he sighs, beginning anew.

“I had been unknowingly exposing Noma to the stone’s energy the whole time she was in utero. The color of her aura that I saw within mine makes me believe that the stone has been transferring to her since her conception. I believed that the blue I saw within her aura was a reflection of my own…I think, in reality, it was that of the stone’s.” He drops the braid for a second time before giving up, settling for rubbing Noma’s back in wide, soothing circles. “The stone’s power is within her, now. It’s completed a soul transfer, and now it will be damn near impossible to extract the energy without harming Noma in the process.”

“This is my fault, Thor.” And Loki hangs his head, one hand curling around one of Noma’s little arms as she tries to crawl away. “And now the Titan will come for her.”

“…no,” Thor says after a moment of silence, the arm he has around Loki’s middle tightening. “No, Loki, no. This is not your fault. You did not know what was happening, and you took the stone to _protect_ it.”

“Thor,” And Loki’s laugh is tight, bitter. “Thor, Thor, Thor. You believe so wholly in my goodness, now, that it does not even cross your mind that maybe I have not changed as much as you think.” And Thor lets him slip out of his grasp as Loki stands, settling Noma on his hip. He won’t look at his husband. “I took the stone for my own selfish reasons. I wanted to use it to save my own life.” But his voice wavers a bit on the half-truth, and he hears Thor stand behind him.

“You say I do not understand you as well as I think I do. But why is it, then, that I can still tell when you’re lying?”

“I’m not lying,” Loki snaps, but it is weak, his voice lacks conviction. He shies away from Thor’s broad palm when it lands on his shoulder, but cannot stop himself from turning to face him.

“Tell me the truth, Loki,” Thor says, and Loki finds, now, that even the thought of lying to Thor turns his throat to sandpaper. It used to be so commonplace for him, whether little fibs or full-on unthruths, to look Thor directly in the eyes and lie to him. But what they’ve faced together has changed him, and he finds he can no longer force the falsehood past his lips.

“At first, it was true. I intended to use the stone to barter for my own life.” And he looks down to Noma, who is dozing off against his side at Loki’s nervous bouncing. “I…once Noma was born, I knew I could not let him have her. And I knew I could not let him have you.” The little intake of breath Loki hears almost hurts him a bit, and he looks up to find Thor watching him raptly. “I intended to keep you both safe by self sacrifice. I knew I couldn’t just offer up the stone in exchange for your lives, he would simply take what he wanted and kill you all the same. I…if he killed me, he would have to unwind my magic to find the stone. I’ve spent days putting wards and trips and guards up so that it won’t be easy for anyone other than myself to access the stone. I was hoping that would give you time to escape.”

“Loki,” And Thor’s voice is so broken that Loki can’t bring himself to meet his brother’s gaze. It does not matter much, though, as Loki is gathered into a crushing hug a moment later, so tight that he can barely breathe. When Thor relents, it is only to take Loki’s lips in a deep kiss, leaving the trickster breathless and stunned.

“No, Loki.” Thor murmurs after he pulls back, hands cupping Loki’s face and resting their foreheads together. “No more. I will not watch you leave this universe a third time. I could not bear it.” And when Loki looks up to meet Thor’s gaze, he’s staggered to see unshed tears gleaming in his remaining eye.

 _Ah, he’s been a fool._ Loki has done it again, attempting to right all of the world’s problems on his own, when he has Thor to support him. It will likely take Loki millennia more to remember that he’s alone no longer. That is, if he still has millennia left to live.

“No more,” Loki agrees after a moment, and Thor kisses him again, this time softer and sweeter. When they part, Thor pulls him close again.

“I love you, Loki.”

“I love you too.” And truer words have never passed Loki’s lips.

After, they sit on the bed together, Noma asleep in Loki’s lap as her parents begin to strategize. They’ll need to tell the Avengers at some point, of course, but for now their little family is all that matters. Noma will, of course, be far, far away from the battle when the time comes. Host of the Tesseract or not, she is but two years old, and the most precious thing in the lives of her parents. She will be protected at all costs. Thor attempts multiple times to convince Loki to flee with Noma, but he refuses each time.

“I will not leave you to face this alone.”

“I will not be alone,” Thor reasons, taking Loki’s hands in his. “And you have more children than just Noma to think about.”

Loki blinks, before realization hits him. _The twins._ He’s been so caught up in protecting Noma that he’d forgotten entirely about the _second_ piece of unfortunate news he’d received earlier. Well, perhaps calling it unfortunate is a bit unfair. Loki is thrilled to learn he’s pregnant with Thor’s next offspring, and not only _one,_ but _two_ of them. But this is quite possibly the worst time imaginable for him to be carrying children. Thanos will likely arrive before their birth, but just close enough that Loki will be a round, waddling, hormonal mess and of little help to anyone.

“Please,” Thor says quietly, placing twin kisses on each of Loki’s palms. “You must save what I love best: yourself, and our children.”

“I’m not talking about this right now,” Loki replies with a heavy sigh, taking his hands from Thor’s. “My focus is on Noma’s safety. All others can come later.” But is that really fair to the little ones growing inside of him? Aren’t they his children, too? Loki’s head hurts. So does his stomach.

“I remember telling you something about keeping your horrid cock to yourself after I gave birth to Noma. Maybe you should have listened to me.”

Thor’s chuckle breaks the tense anxiety that has been hanging in the air for the last hour, and he leans forward to knock his forehead against Loki’s softly. Loki can’t help but smile.

“The mortals did not call me the God of Fertility for nothing,” He teases, and Loki’s cheeks go pink.

“Honestly, Thor, could we not have done it one at a time? Next it will be triplets. We are gods, we live for millennia. We have time to make babies. But I suppose you always have to go about things the hard way.”

“The ‘hard’ way,” Thor wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Loki gives him a soft elbow to the ribs in rebuttal.

But after their smiles fade again, Thor reaches out to place one broad palm against Loki’s stomach. He is twenty-two days along, still incredibly early in the pregnancy. Thor will, if all goes according to plan, be able to watch his children grow inside of Loki for the whole nine months, something that he was unable to do with Noma’s gestation.

“Twins,” Thor murmurs softly, and Loki presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Two…at the same time.”

The chuckle Loki looses is soft, fond. “That is, in short, what twins are.” He lays one of his hands over Thor’s, entwining their fingers on top of his abdomen. There’s no bump there, yet, but with how much Loki grew with Noma’s pregnancy, he bets he’ll begin showing soon. Loki will certainly receive the attention he’s been gunning for.

“What will your friends think?” He asks after a moment more, trying to imagine himself twice as big as he was with Noma. It seems impossible. By the end of Noma’s gestation, Loki felt full to bursting, that even the tiniest kick from his daughter might send him splitting in two. His Jötunn form had gained three deep stripes of motherhood, just like the lines that now dance across the abdomen of his Aesir form. He wonders how many more he’ll gain with the twins.

“I’m sure Tony will have many things to say,” Thor posits, finding one of the pinkish lines now and tracing it with his fingers. “Though if he bothers you, I will have words for him.”

“He always bothers me,” Loki replies with a noncommittal hand gesture, eyes drifting to where Noma is beginning to stir in his lap. “But not to the point where I need my big brother to fight for my honor.” Noma’s eyes, for a moment, are their normal honey-brown when she blinks them sleepily up at Loki. Then, they spark once, twice, before settling back to the eerie blue shine of the Tesseract.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Loki says, swallowing the waver to his voice as Noma rights herself in his lap, seeming to notice her parents’ entwined hands on Loki’s stomach.

“In here,” She says smugly, and Loki can’t help but give a shaky laugh. He lifts Noma up to his face, pressing a kiss to her brow, before leaning their foreheads together.

“In here,” He confirms, before Noma starts squealing and kicking in absolute joy. Loki has to dodge a knee to the kidney, settling his daughter down on the bed next to him. She immediately throws herself over his thighs, pressing one rounded cheek to Loki’s belly.

Stroking a hand over her wild hair, Loki sits back as Noma begins babbling against his abdomen, hands coming up to pat at the skin like she might reach through to the babies inside. He catches Thor’s gaze, and they have a conversation entirely through smiles and the quirking of eyebrows. It ends when Thor leans forward to plant a kiss on Loki’s forehead before murmuring softly to him.

“We are the luckiest family in all the nine realms.”

Loki can’t bring himself to disagree.

The rest of the Avengers take the news about as well as Loki predicted. He asks them if they would like the good or the bad news first, to which Rogers crinkles his brow and glances at Stark.

“Good,” Tony says after a moment, setting down the blaster prototype he’s been working on with Shuri. The aforementioned teenaged genius holds her hand out and the blaster goes flying to her, settling around her wrist with a dull _clank._

“Sweet,” Peter marvels, looking up at her with stars in his eyes. Loki sees T’Challa glance at the boy and shake his head a bit, smirking.

“We are expecting,” Thor announces jovially, wrapping the arm that is not holding Noma around Loki’s waist.

“Twins,” Loki adds awkwardly after the room goes deathly silent, every member of their slap-dash team of heroes seeming to freeze in place.

Peter is the first to break the silence, and he does so by leaping up out of his chair and cheering. This seems to break the trance, as, slowly, others begin to chatter, starting with Natasha and Clint, then spreading to Shuri and T’Challa and Wanda and the Vision. Steve leans over and murmurs something to Bucky, who smiles, and Bruce whacks Tony on the back a few times before the inventor seems to come back to himself.

“Oh, good, more brats to run around and wipe their boogers on my nice, clean couches,” He gripes, but Loki can see the sparkle in his eye. Stark has been particularly enamored with Noma, though he would never admit it. He’s usually one of the first to volunteer when Loki needs someone to watch her for a couple hours. One one particularly memorable occasion, Loki had returned from a venture into town to find both Stark and Noma dead asleep, covered in make-up with _Frozen_ playing on the video screen.

“Congratulations,” Wanda says softly, and Loki dips his head to her, smiling a little. He was almost hoping they would pick the bad news first, so that he had something to soften the blow after.

“And the bad news is, what? We have to handle three super-powerful demi-god children around the base instead of just one?”

“They’re not demigods, they are gods,” Thor points out at the same time Loki coughs and mutters “you might not be so wrong about that” under his breath. Stark’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

Loki takes Noma from Thor’s arms when he offers her, and he carefully turns the toddler ‘round so that everyone can see her. The room goes silent again.

“Her eyes…” Bruce murmurs softly, and the guilt that eats at Loki’s chest is acid-sharp and rancid. He carefully smooths Noma’s hair back before settling her on his hip, bouncing in a half-habitual, half-anxious fashion.

“I…did not tell you the whole truth, when I arrived on Midgard,” He starts, and Tony’s eyes go flinty-sharp. The glance he shares with Rogers is unsure, and the Captain has tensed in his seat. “Since the destruction of Asgard, I have been in possession of the Tesseract. It is what you might know as the space stone.”

“An _infinity stone?”_ Sam says incredulously from his seat next to Stark, and something in his tone must make Thor wary, as he steps forward so that he is slightly in front of Loki. The Trickster sighs and lays a palm on the back of Thor’s shoulder.

“You are correct,” He says, holding Noma closer to his side. “The Tesseract was being held in Asgard’s vault after Thor retrieved it following the battle of New York. In order to defeat Hela, I was tasked with setting off a reaction that would destroy the planet. When I went to the vault to do so, I realized that if I simply left the Tesseract, it would more than likely fall into Thanos’ hands. So I took it with me.”

“You’ve had an infinity stone. All this time.” Rogers says slowly, and Bucky is watching him with his head tipped, eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t think it might be a good idea to share with the class?”

“I thought we had an agreement that you were on our side,” Tony says, and Loki can’t help but pick up on the tiniest hint of _betrayal_ etched in Stark’s tone. It’s surprising, if not a little foolish. Though all Loki has been longing for is redemption, it is far past his understanding as to why people seem so wont to trust him after such short periods of time.

“With all due respect, I am on the side of my family and my people. As long as you continue to be our allies, I will continue to hold up my end of the deal.”

“Real sweet-talker, aren’t you,” Stark says lowly. His knuckles are turning white from where he has them clenched around the edge of the table. Loki might have been a little harsh with that one.

“I want to see it,” Wanda pipes up after a minute, face sullen. Guilt eats steady at Loki’s throat. She was one of the last people he wanted to disappoint.

“You’re looking at it,” Loki says, and then waits. Peter’s eyes are the first to light with recognition, and the utterly _horrified_ look that flits across his face makes Loki’s heart sink. The spider child was right up there with Wanda on the list of people he didn’t want to hurt.

“Noma,” He breathes, and Shuri gasps, hands going up to her mouth. Clint is out of his chair in seconds, only held back by the hand Natasha has around his arm.

“You didn’t,” Clint snarls, eyes full of rage. “You didn’t bond that stone to your daughter. You didn’t force her to go through that utter _torture_. Because if you did, I’m going to _end you_.”

“I would _never_ harm my daughter on purpose,” Loki hisses with just as much rancor, fighting internally against the chill he feels racing down his spine. “I’d slice you all through without a thought, throw myself on a sword, _burn down this whole universe_ before I would ever let harm befall my child.”

“Then why do her eyes look like that?” Natasha demands, and Loki can see she’s about a second away from letting Clint go at Loki’s throat like he so obviously wants to.

“I hid the stone with my magic,” Loki explains, trying to force back the Jötunn transformation he can feel tingling at his nerve-endings. Now’s not the time to bare sharp fangs and glare with red eyes. “And my magic is a part of me, bound inextricably with my presence through the tree of life. I did not know this, but when I was pregnant with Noma, she was being exposed to the stone’s power through my magic.” Suddenly, Loki is exhausted, and he lifts Noma to tuck her head under his chin. “I did not know. If I did, I would have moved heaven and earth to keep it from happening. If you believe nothing else I have ever said, believe this. If my death would take the stone from my daughter’s body, I would let any of you run me through right here and now.”

The room is silent, save for Clint and Loki’s harsh breathing and the tiny _tick-tick-tick_ of the clock mounted on the east wall. Thor is still braced in front of Loki, massive arms crossed like he expects an attack to come at any moment. It doesn’t.

“I believe him,” Bucky says after a moment, the first words Loki thinks he’s heard him say during their acquaintance. The trickster blinks at him dumbly, hands frozen on Noma’s back. After a moment, Rogers turns to him slowly, eyebrow raised.

“What?” Bucky shrugs, not deterred in the slightest. “I believe him. I don’t think he’d hurt his daughter. Keeping the stone from us is a different story. But I don’t think he merged it with his daughter on purpose.”

“I agree,” Peter pipes up, though he still looks hurt. Loki hopes he can fix that, some day. “He wouldn’t hurt Noma. He loves her too much. We’ve all seen how he is with her.”

“Once, she fell and acquired an injury to her knee,” The Vision says, head cocked. “Though there was only a two per-cent chance of infection to the wound after antiseptics were applied, Loki still spent an hour with an increased heart rate and did not leave his daughter’s side for the rest of the day.”

“Thank you…?” Loki murmurs after a moment, mystified. The Vision tips his head.

Stark doesn’t seem convinced. He’s standing now, arms crossed and hip against the high-backed chair he’d been settled in. His whole body is one sharp, tensed line. “Whether or not he merged it with Noma on purpose,” He says, corners of his mouth drawn tight. “He came here in possession of an Infinity Stone and kept the fact from all of us. We’ve been searching high and low for those things for the past _year,_ because some lunatic with a Nintendo Power Glove is trying to use them all to, I don’t know, _destroy the entire universe as we know it.”_ Next to him, Sam and Rhodey are nodding slowly.

“I should have told you about the stone. For that, I apologize,” Loki starts slowly, pressing a kiss to Noma’s palm when she cups a hand around Loki’s cheek. “My intentions were not to deceive you. I…” and he pauses, sighs. Strokes along the tense line of Thor’s shoulder blades with his thumb. “I have made mistakes.”

“Uh, yeah.” Tony snorts. Loki shoots him a half-hearted glare before continuing.

“Noma and Thor are not part of those mistakes. In fact, they are quite possibly the only things I’ve done right in my entire life.” And Thor drops his stance to turn to Loki, to pull him close, but the trickster shakes his head softly. Thor settles for pressing their sides together instead. “I intended to use the Tesseract to save their lives. I wanted to hide it so well that Thanos would have to kill me to find it. My life means nothing to me if I can use it to save theirs. I would die a thousand times over if it meant their safety.”

Thor tenses at his side, but Loki’s attention is on Stark, who suddenly looks _stricken,_ overcome with more emotion than Loki’s ever seen from him. It comes to the point where he has to grip at the edge of his chair to keep himself upright, and Rogers puts a supportive hand to his back, murmuring “Tony?” in surprise. Wanda, across the room, looks exceptionally guilty.

“I—I will not let any harm befall Noma,” Loki continues uncertainly, unsure of what internal crisis Stark seems to be going through. “My intent is to have her as far away as possible when Thanos arrives. There is an Asgardian I trust implicitly who I have already picked for this task.”

“Mama,” Noma interrupts him, and Loki looks down to his daughter. She’s got her hands tangled in the strands of beads he’s wearing about his neck. “Noma hungry.”

“Give mother a moment more, and then we’ll make lunch,” Loki promises her, smoothing an errant curl away from her forehead. “What does Noma want to eat?”

Scrunching her little nose up, Noma seems to stop to think for a moment. It’s one of Loki’s favorite expressions of hers. It reminds him so much of Thor when he was but a lad. “Pancakes!” She cheers after a moment, and Loki lets out a breathless chuckle, bouncing her softly. Usually, he’d tell Noma that they saved sweets for breakfast. But he’s feeling particularly willing to give her just about whatever she wants today.

“Pancakes it is,” He tells her, and Noma presses a great smacking kiss to his cheek.

“Love you, mama.”

Whatever wicked, twisting thing that has been eating at Loki’s insides for the past day seems to calm at those words, and Loki can’t keep the tears that threaten to form in his eyes at bay. He gathers his daughter up close, pressing their noses together.

“Mama loves Noma too. So, so much.”

When Loki looks back up, Stark seems to be past whatever dire emergency he was having before. The room has settled down, and most of its inhabitants are watching Loki and Noma quietly, expressions sad.

“I suppose we have something solid to protect, now,” Natasha says after a moment, and there are murmurs of concurrence from around the room.

“Nobody will lay a hand on her,” Stark agrees, looking up at Loki. Their gazes catch, and something seems to pass between them, some unspoken similitude that helps Loki understand what Stark just went through. They are not so different, after all.

“Alright, team,” Rogers speaks up, activating the holoscreen on the table. “Let’s come up with a strategy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering what happened to Tony, just think back to the vision Wanda make him see in Age of Ultron. He and Loki both have things that they want to protect...<3
> 
> In other news, I'm traveling again this week! (No rest for the weary [[wicked]], I suppose ;)) Look for the next chapter in about two weeks' time. We're approaching the end of this fic, which totally blows my mind! It seems like just yesterday I hit that 'publish' button on HMTOD. Thanks y'all for sticking around!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are the chances Thanos is on that ship?” Steve calls, and Tony cups the projection in his hands, manipulates it until several areas of the ship light up orange. 
> 
> “There are six heat signatures,” Tony replies, flicking the projection this way and that to see it at different angles. “But only one of them is larger than a normal, adult human being.”
> 
> “So it could be him,” Loki says with no air, feeling like his insides have turned to ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, I hit some pretty gnarly writer's block that took me a while to break through. In other news, you'll notice that I've put a final chapter count on this fic! We are officially two chapters away from the end (plus, perhaps, a little epilogue). I am going to work my butt off to make sure the climax of this fic is finished before Infinity Wars comes out in a month (ahhh!) So thanks to all y'all for sticking with me!

“Bubbas,” Noma says to Loki one day, after she’s been napping with her cheek pressed against the soft curve of his stomach. There hasn’t been an hour since Noma learned of Loki’s pregnancy that she hasn’t been glued to his side, as if she must personally ensure that her siblings are growing properly. Every night, Noma will lay upon his lap, face pressed up against his belly, whispering secrets to the babies inside that even Loki cannot decipher.

“Hm?” Loki blinks down at her drowsily, eyes bleary with sleep. He is but six weeks into his pregnancy, but the weariness of carrying two babes has already begun to settle into his bones. He’s oft joined Noma for her afternoon nap over the past couple of weeks.

“Bubbas,” Noma repeats, and it takes Loki a moment to understand what she’s trying to say. He tips his head at her, gathering her wild curls out of her face.

“Brothers?” He asks, and Noma smiles, nodding enthusiastically. One of her little canines catches on her bottom lip, and Loki helps her smooth it back into her mouth without drawing blood. She’s taken to partial Jötunn transformations in the past couple months. Loki honestly doesn’t know what his daughter will look like when he wakes up in the morning. Sometimes, she is midnight blue, breathing crystal and touch frozen. Other days, she grows her horns and claws, making putting her down for naptime a dangerous endeavor. Today, she is entirely Aesir, save for her everyday markings and the sharp canines that now peek out from under her top lip.

“Two bubbas,” She confirms, and Loki settles a hand under the slight swell of his belly, thoughtful. They still have quite some time to go before Svanhild will be able to use her potions to determine the sexes of their children, but Loki would put money on there being two baby boys inside his womb.

Pulling his daughter close, he positions her so she’s curled up against his chest, careful to avoid any pressure on his stomach. Noma wriggles about until she’s comfortable, finally coming to rest with her cheek pressed up against Loki’s.

“And what should we name these brothers of yours, my little one?”

Nose scrunching up, Noma seems to take a moment to think.

“Pancakes,” She declares, and Loki’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“You want to name your brothers…Pancakes. Both of them?”

“One Elsa.” And Noma’s expression remains pinched and serious, daring Loki to naysay her suggestions.

“Pancakes and Elsa,” Loki smooths a kiss over Noma’s hairline, red cheeks holding in peals of laughter. “Perfect names, I think.”

The past few weeks have been filled with meetings and talks of strategy. Loki himself has been split between attending the conferences with Thor’s friends and making sure the proper preparations are being made for Noma’s safety. Two weeks prior, at his first prenatal appointment with Svanhild, Loki had lain a serious hand upon her shoulder and asked her to sit with him.

“I have something I must ask of you,” He had said, tone somber. “You have every right to refuse if you should not want to take on this responsibility, but know that you are the only one I trust with this task.”

Face growing serious, Svanhild had reached up to lay one of her hands upon Loki’s own. “Anything, your Majesty.”

“Preparations are being made to evacuate our people before Thanos arrives. The king of Wakanda has been generous enough to offer to protect all of you within his borders until the battle comes to an end. Thor and I will be making this announcement shortly so that everyone has time to prepare.” Loki had sighed, rubbed an anxious hand over the back of his neck. This stress couldn’t be good for the twins. “I…would like to entrust Noma to your care. I would ask you to take her with you and protect her. There is a chance, that if we fail here, the Titan will come looking for her. I would ask your word that you’d do everything within your power to protect her.”

Svanhild had been silent for a moment, thinking. Then, her hand had tightened on Loki’s, and when she looked back up to him, tears glistened misty in her eyes. “I am truly honored that you would entrust your daughter to me, your Majesty,” She had said softly, something harder than tears glinting within her grey gaze. “I swear to you that I will protect the princess until my dying breath. If the Norns should hear my prayers, no harm will come to your daughter.”

Their ensuing embrace had been ripe with tears from both sides, and Svanhild had stated sternly after a few minutes that they must both get themselves together, as all this excitement wasn’t good for the twins. Loki had grinned and wiped his hands messily over his eyes. Long ago, he couldn’t have even imagined having such support and loyalty from one of his people, much less one who had witnessed his multiple falls from grace. Svanhild is truly a blessing, and Loki makes a note to include her specifically in the protection runes he’s been ritualistically chanting every evening since he learned of his second pregnancy.

Of course, Loki isn’t placing all of the responsibility for Noma’s safety on his people. His daughter is imbued with the primordial power of an infinity stone, and since they can’t extract it, they might as well put it to use. Noma is barely past two years old, now, which is, of course, terribly young to begin any sort of tutelage in seiðr. Her casting is still mostly linked to her emotions, and the magic she is slinging is rudimentary, at best. Her seiðr is still mostly for instinctual protection, and while that is the basis of what she’ll need if she is to survive, Loki needs to refine her skills just a tad for what he has in mind.

“Noma. Noma, sweetheart, look at mother.” And Noma looks up from where she’s been grappling around on the floor with the frankly exorbitantly large teddy bear Stark had gifted her for her second birthday. “Come here, sweet girl.”

When he gets Noma settled on the floor in front of him, Loki takes both of her tiny hands in his. Carefully, he casts a green flame that dances above both of their palms, and Noma marvels at it, eyes alight.

“Do you know what this is, sweetheart?” Loki asks softly, and Noma giggles and passes her hand through the flame, skin remaining unharmed.

“Magic,” She states matter-of-factly. “Mama’s magic.”

“Very good.” And Loki carefully cups one of Noma’s palms in his, passes the flame to her. It flickers softly before lighting up cerulean, and Noma passes her hand this way and that, watching the flame dance about in the air.

“This is Noma’s magic,” Loki says softly, and laments the circumstances that have brought them to this place. Ideally, he’d wait until she was eight, nine, even _ten_ before he began introducing her to her magic. She’d be old enough to understand what it was, old enough to understand how seriously it should be taken. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and Loki means to give his daughter every possible advantage in the war she never asked to be born into.

He spends days just letting her cast under his watchful eye, playing about with the things she creates as she begins to learn that her magic is an extension of her being. When she begins to cry from hunger, the apple she’d been eyeing in Stark’s kitchens appears and plops into her lap. When she starts yawning as they approach noontime, the icicles she’d been casting turn to soft, fat snowflakes, landing gently upon her cheeks and hair as she curls up drowsily on the floor. On one particularly temperamental day, Loki had been sitting on the bed when he found himself transported across the room, seated on the floor so that Noma could crawl into his lap, seeking the attention she apparently deemed she was lacking.

Two weeks of this pass before Loki deems Noma ready to begin what he’s been planning for. He wants to see how far he can take transformation magic with her. Ideally, Loki would like her to take on the form of an adult, with as many physical differences from Noma’s current form as possible so that she will be harder to identify. Currently, it would take a blind imbecile to miss the fact that Noma was Thor’s daughter. Loki hasn’t a clue how much Thanos knows about the holder of the space stone, but he’d hazard a wild guess that as soon as Thanos found Loki on Earth, he’d be able to find the relation quite easily.

It’s not an easy process. Noma lacks the concentration needed in order to transform herself, so Loki will have to cast the spell and hope Noma doesn’t go temperamental and cast off the magic in one of her tantrums. They start slow: first, Loki changes Noma’s hair, lengthens it so it’s cascading in dark curls down her back. Then, the eyes: he tries multiple times to change their hue, but they always retain a certain inhuman shine to them that can’t be masked. Loki will just have to work with what’s given to him and hope it’s not too obvious.

Ageing Noma up ends up being the toughest part. Changing her body’s physical appearance will do nothing to her mental age, so Noma will basically end up being a toddler’s mind trapped in an adult’s body. Loki rubs a hand over his eyes while Noma stumbles around in her pre-teen body, bumping into walls and flailing her lengthened limbs around awkwardly. When she plops onto her bottom and starts wailing, startlingly infant-like in her prepubescent body, Loki shudders and quickly changes her back.

He doesn’t give up on the ageing approach until a week later, when he finally gets Noma to sit still long enough to concentrate on a stronger transformation spell. Closing his eyes, Loki releases his seiðr through where he has his hands entwined with Noma’s.

After a moment, Loki opens his eyes, and his breath catches in his throat. Standing before him, blinking widely, is a lovely young woman. She’s tall, athletically built, leanly muscled and obviously endowed with her father’s strength. This adult Noma has long, sunny hair, tamed by age and length into soft, shining curls. The baby fat in her cheeks has changed into a slimmer, more chiseled face, high cheekbones and sloped nose reminding Loki of himself. But it’s the eyes that give him pause: the once warm, bright caramel color is now blank, soulless, filled with an unnatural blue glow. Loki shakes his head softly, gives himself one more minute to look over his adult daughter before unwinding his spell. He’s torturing himself unnecessarily. If all goes according to their plan, Loki won’t need this harlequin parody of his daughter. He will live to see her grow and thrive.

Scooping his once-more toddler daughter into his arms, Loki decides he’s done trying to change her form.

Loki makes it into his twelfth week of pregnancy relatively smoothly. He does, in fact, grow exponentially faster than he did with Noma. His bump is the size of a relatively large watermelon by the end of his first trimester, and he’s already into his looser tunics. In no time at all, Loki will probably have to start wearing Thor’s garments again.

Speaking of Thor, he’s been an absolute gentleman. Maybe a little _too much_ of a gentleman, if Loki thinks about it. His husband has been _insanely_ attentive, to the point where Loki feels as if he doesn’t have enough room to think for himself. He can scarcely take a breath without Thor asking if he needs ice for his ankles or a massage for his aching back. Not as if Loki doesn’t appreciate Thor’s… _enthusiasm,_ in that area. It’s just that he simply enjoys having time to himself every once in a while.

He’s not surprised that Thor is so protective of him, what with the combination of not being aware of Noma’s gestation until almost halfway in combined with the fact that Loki’s current pregnancy is high-risk with multiples. Svanhild had prattled off a whole list of things that Loki could expect from this pregnancy: worse morning sickness, increased aches and pains, problems with gravity (Loki had scoffed at that one, but was soon shown exactly what Svanhild was talking about when he toppled right over reaching down to pick up some of Noma’s toys.) She had also advised him that it was likely he’d deliver the twins around a month early. Even earlier, she’d warned, if Loki was under too much stress towards the end of his gestation. Loki had scoffed lightly.

“Moving to save the universe from certain doom shouldn’t be too much stress, should it?”

Svanhild had laughed, but her eyes had been solemn when she met Loki’s 

“Your majesty, I’d have you far, far away from the battle when it begins.”

“So would Thor,” Loki had groused, in a tone that effectively ended the conversation.

Later that day, Thor finds Loki trying to lift himself into a cold bath in his Jötunn form, struggling to stay balanced over the basin. After he’s carefully helped Loki to sit in the freezing water, Thor lowers himself to sit on the floor at his side.

“And how was your visit with Svanhild?”

“Fine enough,” And Loki takes a cloth, running cold water over his cheeks and down his clavicle. Thor takes it up for him after a moment, cleaning around his horns and following the markings on Loki’s face with a finger. “I’ll have to take this form now for the twins. Both of them together are generating more heat in my womb than Noma did in her entire pregnancy.” Interestingly, Loki feels no apprehension about this change, at least, not like he did with his first pregnancy. In fact, he’s a little interested to see how Thor’s mortal friends will react to his Jötunar form.

They’re already quite a bit uncertain about Loki in his pregnant state. Natasha, Clint, and Wanda will still happily approach him and ask to touch his bump, but the rest of the Avengers are skittish around him, unsure. It’s as if they think that touching his belly could somehow send him into premature labor. Most are also still a fair bit careful of what they’ll say around Loki, what they’ll trust him with. Since Loki revealed his possession of the Tesseract, Tony had revoked most of his access to the labs, and most of the information Loki had about their plan of attack came from Thor.

“Give them time,” Thor had murmured, pressing a kiss to Loki’s forehead. “They’ll come back around. They liked you, Loki, they trusted you. They will do so once more.”

A week later, Natasha is helping Loki sort through baby clothes that Clint’s wife had dropped off with her children in tow. She stays around for a few hours, long enough that Noma takes a liking to their youngest, a boy named Nathaniel. They chase each other around the main floor while Loki lifts a little green onesie out of the box, smiling.

“Twins, huh?” Laura asks, helping her elder children unpack a couple more boxes. “I can’t even imagine. I gained ten more pounds with Nathaniel than I did with the others, but I can’t even think about what having multiples might be like.”

“Yes, well,” Loki chuckles, setting aside a pair of striped pants and a shirt with a pattern of moons on it. “I haven’t much of an idea of what to expect, myself. Though I’m much larger than I was with Noma at this stage, and, well…” He motions to the horns peeking out from his plaited hair.

The reveal of his Jötunn form to the Avengers had gone as smooth as possible, considering the circumstances. None of them had ever seen a Jötunn before, except for Bruce. Loki appeared at a meeting in his Jötunn skin, carrying an equally Jötunar Noma on his hip. Everyone had been huddled around a holoscreen, listening raptly to something that the Captain was outlining on its surface. Once he was done, Loki had cleared his throat softly.

“You didn’t tell me your brother was a member of the Blue Man Group,” Tony said off-handedly to Thor after a moment of silence. The other Avengers were blinking at him in various states of surprise.

“Tony—“ Thor had started reproachfully, but Loki shook his head, adjusted Noma on his hip.

“This is my birth-given form,” He said levelly, chin lifted high. Loki had felt a strange sense of deja-vu in that moment. “The Jötunar blood that runs through my veins is the same proud blood that runs through Noma’s. We are unashamed of our natural forms.” And he laid a kiss upon Noma’s brow. “I will remain this way for the rest of my pregnancy, so as to make sure my children grow healthy and strong. Noma tends to take her Jötunar form when I take mine, so you’d best get used to seeing us in this way. I have put up wards on our skin so as to protect you, but I caution you to not anger a Jötunn. I cannot guarantee our touch won’t burn when angered.”

“It’s…we accept you, Loki,” Shuri had said after everyone seemed to break out of their confused reverie. “That wasn’t a question.”

Peter had stood carefully from his seat around the table, slowly approaching Loki. Much like when Peter had first met Loki, there were stars glistening in his eyes. He had lifted a hand questioningly, and, after a moment, Loki realized what he was asking for.

He lowered one of his horns to brush Peter’s palm, and the boy ran his hand over it reverently, pulling back after a moment to hover a hand over Loki’s abdomen. When the Jötunn once again nodded, Peter pressed a hand to the bump, smile bright as the sun and just as wide. When he looked up again, Loki could see he had been forgiven.

It didn’t surprise him when Thor moved protectively behind him, watching the others closely as they came to cup Loki’s belly or marvel at his newly-taken form. Rogers spent several moments playing peek-a-boo with Noma, pretending to be scared as she bared her teeth each time. At the end, Tony had, at a bit of prodding from the Captain, stubbornly apologized for the Blue Man Group comment. Loki had no idea what the Blue Man Group was, but he had accepted the apology anyways.

“I told you,” Thor had murmured after, Loki’s feet in his lap as he massaged at his sore arches. “They all come back around when you allow them to see your true self.”

Half-asleep, Loki had groused, “I hate it when you’re right.”

“What about this?” Laura asks, and Loki blinks over at her, suddenly aware that he’s been staring at a polka-dot onesie in his hands for an uncomfortable amount of time. She’s holding up a little tu-tu ensemble, pink and frilled with tulle.

“Perfect,” He replies with an amused grin, adding it to the pile of the things he’ll keep. He fully believes Noma’s prediction that the babes in his tummy are both boys, but he hasn’t a care for what humans separate into “for boys” and “for girls”. How trivial.

After a few minutes of sorting, Noma toddles over and collapses into Loki’s lap, obviously exhausted from all of her frolicking. Loki chuckles and tucks her close, wiping a tiny bead of sweat off her brow. “Tired, are we?”

“Noma like Nathaniel,” Noma replies around the thumb in her mouth, and Loki thinks to himself not for the first time that they really should get her out of that habit. “Nathaniel friend.”

“It’s good to have friends, little one,” Loki says, rearranging her so she’s more comfortably lain across his lap, avoiding his sore stomach. “They will help you when times are hard.”

The complex-wide alarm is not something Loki has heard many times, but he’s immediately familiar with the sound of sirens blaring as it’s activated. He’s on his feet immediately, Noma tucked close to his chest. Natasha stands from where she’d been braiding Lila’s hair, hand going to the communicator at her wrist.

“Clint, what’s going on?”

“Tony’s satellites have picked up a ship coming our way. Cap just sent the order to assemble. Are Laura and the kids down there with you?”

“Affirmative.”

“Nat, can you get them into the safe room before you meet up with us? _Please.”_

“You got it, Barton.” And Natasha moves to Laura and her children, who are already clutching at their mother’s skirts, eyes wide. She glances back at Loki. “And you?”

A million thoughts are going through Loki’s mind at once. There’s _no way_ , with Shuri’s upgrades to Stark’s satellites, they should have been able to track a ship’s approach from the time it entered their quadrant of the galaxy. This is all _too soon._ Thanos shouldn’t be arriving for another half a year still with their calculations, Loki hasn’t had time to set up the evacuation for his people, for _Noma._ His daughter is looking up at him with wide, scared eyes, and Loki’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Laura,” He chokes. “I know we have just met, and this is much to ask, but—“

“Yes,” Laura replies instantly, and holds her free arm out. Loki lets out the breath he’s been holding and carefully settles Noma into her arms before leaning down and kissing his daughter’s forehead, lingering.

“Mama?” Noma warbles, high and scared, and Loki takes her cheeks between his hands.

“Everything will be okay, Noma. Mama promises. Remember that Mama loves you, yes? Be nice for Laura.” He kisses her forehead again, dizzy with the thought that this could very well be the last time he sees his daughter. “I love you more than anything, Noma.”

Noma immediately starts crying when Natasha leads the group away, but Loki bites at the inside of his cheek, holds in his despair. He’s going to need everything he’s capable of to face Thanos, if this really is the end. Turning, Loki dashes up the stairs towards the assembly room in the center of the complex.

Everyone has already gathered when Loki arrives, including Thor, who rushes to him as soon as they catch gazes.

“Noma?” He asks breathlessly, and Loki squeezes his hand.

“In the safe room with Laura and the children.”

“You should be there, too,” Thor says, but Loki shakes his head sharply, grips at the dagger strapped to his thigh.

“Not the time, Thor.”

“It’s a fairly small ship,” Tony calls from his place in front of the holoscreen. Floating above the table is an opaque projection of the ship, going murky as it enters the atmosphere, obscured by clouds. But Loki can see just enough to know that the ship is small, far too small to be Thanos’. That doesn’t mean they’re in the clear, though. There are a million things that could be on that ship, and odds point to whatever it is being involved with Thanos in some way.

“It’s not Thanos’. I’ve seen his ship before. That ship has to be a L or an M-class ship, what with how small it is.” Loki speaks up, hand still tightly gripping Thor’s.

“What are the chances Thanos is on that ship?” Steve calls, and Tony cups the projection in his hands, manipulates it until several areas of the ship light up orange.

“There are six heat signatures,” Tony replies, flicking the projection this way and that to see it at different angles. “But only one of them is larger than a normal, adult human being.”

“So it could be him,” Loki says with no air, feeling like his insides have turned to ice. Thor cups Loki’s neck in signature fashion, turns Loki to face him.

“Go to the safe room with Laura and Noma. Please. Think about the babies.” And Thor’s other hand goes to Loki’s bump, cups it tenderly like he’s afraid it will be the last time. Loki chokes down his panic and looks up to meet Thor’s gaze, jaw steeled.

“If Thanos defeats all of you, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can’t find me. The children are only as safe as I am, Thor. And I will not let you face this alone.”

Loki knows that once Thor has made up his mind about something, there’s no changing it. Inversely, Thor knows that Loki is the same. His blue gaze shutters sadly before he pulls Loki into a kiss, taking the air from his lungs like they may never have the chance again.

“We need to move,” Tony announces, pieces of his suit already starting to fly to him. “They’ll touch down any minute now.”

The ship is just a metallic glint in the sky when the Avengers take their places outside the complex, air around them charged with apprehension and anxiety. Thor hasn’t let go of Loki’s hand. Loki looks about him, looks at Thor’s friends—his friends, the ones who have accepted him, who have held his daughter, welcomed his people. Tony and the Captain have taken up a defensive stance in front of Peter, who is protesting and smacking at their shoulders in exasperation. Shuri reaches out a hand, squeezes her brother’s tight. Natasha and Clint look to each other and nod sharply before drawing their weapons. Wanda turns to the Vision, sweeping a hand over his face softly. Bucky and Sam bump shoulders before taking their places next to the Captain.

Before, Loki could only hope to die a quick and painless death, alone and forgotten. Now, he hopes he’ll have the pleasure of fighting until his last breath.

As the ship lands, Loki can make out chipped blue-and-gold paint. It’s an M-class alright, though it’s not like any of the Ravager ships Loki has seen before. This one has obviously been custom outfitted with additional wings and a wider cockpit. Loki doesn’t have much time to wonder why Thanos would bother taking a rusted old Ravager ship before the hiss of hydraulics sounds.

As the door begins to open, each of the Avengers draw their weapons, all focused on the entrance to the ship. Loki himself stretches out a palm, calls his frost magic. And he thinks one more time of his daughter.

There’s a coughing sound, and Loki glances to Thor uncertainly as a male’s voice rings out through the smoke.

“Whoa, whoa, Rocket, didn’t I tell you to get that fixed? What are you trying to give me, lung cancer?” And out of the dark cloud steps a figure, about as tall as Loki. As it waves its hand to clear the smoke, Loki gets a better look—it’s a Midgardian male, athletic in stature, with wild dark blonde curls and a long, red jacket, made out of something similar to leather.

When he spots all of them, lined up and ready to attack, the man yelps and throws his hands up, jumping back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up!”

Loki lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and slumps against Thor in relief. Around him, the rest of the Avengers lower their weapons: all except for Tony, who keeps one of his blasters aimed carefully.

“Who the hell are you guys?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who called the Guardians? C'mon, be honest with me here. I'll be honest with you: Peter Quill is my Marvel boyfriend. As much as I love Loki and Thor, I'd rather leave them to each other. I want to be Star-Lady ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Greetings, humans!” Booms Drax, the blue humanoid who had triggered their false alarm in the first place. “I am Drax the Destroyer. I possess superior strength and intellect, which I will use to defeat this Titan and save the universe. Your help will be appreciated, but not necessary for victory.”
> 
> Sardonic chuckles break out amongst the Avengers gathered in the room, and Rhodey throws his hands up, sitting back in his chair.
> 
> “Well shit, why are we here, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember how I told you to never believe me when I predict how many chapters are left in a fic?
> 
> Yeah. That.
> 
> Oh, and also, Happy Easter for those of you that celebrate it! If not, Happy April Fool's Day! I promise nothing in this chapter is an April Fool's joke, haha. Go out and treat yourself to some of that sweet, sweet discounted Easter chocolate.

“Who the hell are you guys?”

Loki’s hand goes down to his stomach, cupping it protectively as more figures begin to pile out of the ship behind the Terran standing in front of them: some sort of creature scuttles out, along with a being Loki has only seen in millennia-old tomes: a Flora Collosus, a species long-thought extinct by Asgardian historians. This one seems to be an adolescent, though, as the top of its head only comes up to the Terran’s waist. Next comes some sort of insectoid female with antennae growing from her forehead, and, behind her, the being that Tony must have assumed was Thanos: a large, blue humanoid male, broad in stature, with ceremonial red markings scattered over his skin.

Finally, from the clearing smoke, the sixth and final figure appears.  It takes Loki a few seconds of blinking before recognition strikes him, but, as soon as it does, he’s immediately on-guard once more. Frost magic bites at his fingers, turns his nails in to deadly, sharp icicles. At Loki’s change in posture, Thor also stiffens, lightning crackling at one hand while the other is slung protectively around Loki’s waist.

“ _You,_ ” Gamora snarls, and Loki bares his canines in a sharp threat.

“ _You_ ,” He parrots, and he sees movement at the corner of his vision. The rest of the Avengers have taken up arms again, and something warm trills in Loki’s chest. Somehow, they trust him enough to react to his judgment. They trust him enough to come to his aid.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The Zehoberei asks, palming the blaster on her hip but making no move to unholster it. Probably wise, considering the fact that there are at least fifteen weapons trained on her person at the moment. Ever so slightly, Loki sees the Terran human male to her left shift, as if he’s trying to get in front of her. _Sentiment._ Not so long ago, Loki would have sneered at the show of emotion, tried to exploit it. But now, as he stands, Thor at his side and hands cupped protectively over his gestating children, Loki finds himself softening, just a bit.

“These are my friends,” Loki says, taking pride in the statements. “I am at home. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Hey, guys, maybe we could all just calm down…” The Terran placates, holding his hands up in mollifying gesture. After a moment, Loki relaxes, and the rest of the team follows suit. Next to Gamora and the Terran, the blue humanoid makes a delighted noise.

“Another blue bretheren!” He crows, before he takes notice of Loki’s sizeable bump. “Ah, sister-en?”

“You guys had better start explaining,” Tony says, still looking on-edge. His gauntlets are both lowered to his sides, but they still thrum ominously with power. The Captain looks similar, hands resting poised on the new vibranium shield he had acquired from Shuri.

“I’m Starlord,” The Terran explains slowly, posture still conciliatory. “These are my friends, Gamora, Rocket, Groot, Mantis and Drax. We’re the Guardians of the Galaxy. You might have heard of us.”

“Who?” Bucky asks blankly, which seems to ruffle Starlord’s feathers a bit.

“The Guardians of the Galaxy,” He repeats, gesturing to a little pinned crest on his jacket. “You know. Saved the universe from Ronan the Accuser? Took down Ego?”

The names ring familiar to Loki, but he can’t quite place them. When he can place from Starlord is a strange aura, though. There is something not entirely human about him, and it sets Loki on-edge.

“Loki, how do you know the lady?” The Captain asks, and Gamora makes a little face as being referred to as such. A sharp sort of amusement curls in Loki’s chest.

“You’ll all be interested, I’m sure, to meet Gamora, daughter and personal assassin of Thanos.”

Shocked murmurs ring through the group of heroes assembled about him, and one of Tony’s gauntlets whirrs back to life again, glowing bright with latent power. Thor’s arm around Loki’s waist tightens, and he’s being brought into Thor’s side protectively.

“Thanos’s _daughter?”_ Peter exclaims, finally having gotten around the Iron-and-Captain human shield in front of him.

Taking a full step so that he’s standing in front of Gamora, Starlord holds his hands out, palms facing them, pleading. “No, no, she’s not with him anymore,” He explains. “She—“

“I can speak for myself, Peter,” Gamora interrupts, and Loki hears the Spider-child shift to his left, whisper to Tony “His name is Peter too?”

“We’re here to _stop_ Thanos,” She says, arms crossed in a self-protective gesture. “If we tracked the space, mind, time and soul stones to Terra, so can he. It’s only a matter of time before he gets here. Do any of you know _anything_ about him?” When Loki opens his mouth, she gives him a glare. “ _Except you_.” He closes his mouth again.

“We know he’s not going to get what he wants,” Steve offers, and Gamora actually scoffs at him, kicks one of her booted feet so that her hips are tipped imperiously 

“Then you don’t know Thanos,” She says. A hush falls over the field. Suddenly, they seem to be at a stale mate.

“I think we have the potential to help each other,” Thor begins slowly. Loki glances over at him, squeezes his hand a bit in encouragement. He continues. “To stop Thanos, you will need help. All of us gathered here are dedicated to protecting our galaxy from his reign. If you tell us what you know about him, we may be better prepared to help you stop him.”

“Thanks for consulting with the class,” Tony says, but he’s relaxed, blasters back at his sides. Loki gives him a sharp look and a head shake. Though he shares the group leadership responsibility with Rogers, he still hasn’t recognized that it’s not exactly wise to show dissent within the group to others.

“And who are you exactly?” The large blue humanoid asks, before muttering a soft “oww” as Starlord elbows him in the ribs.

Shifting to a more open posture, shoulders squared, arm around Loki’s waist, Thor lifts his chin. “I am Thor Odinson,” He announces, in that regal voice that always gives Loki warm little shivers down his spine. “King of Asgard. This is my Queen, Loki.” And Loki tips his head to the group, gratified that the absolutely shell-shocked expression that appears on Gamora’s face.

“Queen?” She exclaims, at the same time Starlord says, “ _You’re Thor?”_

Peter’s eyes are wide, sparkling. He looks positively _elated_ at making his husband’s acquaintance, and Loki frowns a bit, shifts closer to Thor’s side.

“Ah, so you are a female,” Drax posits, grinning wide. “I was quite confused.”

Anger creeps warm up the back of Loki’s neck, and he stiffens a bit in indignation. “I am what I am,” He responds levelly, tapping Thor’s shin with the tip of his boot to get his husband to stand down. “And what I am is fluid. Though I hardly think that is of importance to discuss at this moment.”

“He’s right,” Starlord says, before looking to Gamora for some sort of response. After a moment of analyzing Loki closely, she gives a sharp nod, and Peter takes a step off of the walkway, moving towards Thor.

Stiffening, Loki watches the man as he approaches, one hand cupping his bump and the other curled around Thor’s bicep. Offering his hand, Peter gives a blinding smile.

“We agree to the terms of your proposal.”

As Thor takes the man’s hand and shakes heartily, Tony mutters, “Good to know we’re all in agreement.”

While Thor, Tony and the Captain show the Guardians around the complex, Loki makes a beeline for the safe room. When he arrives, he finds Clint already there, being climbed by his excited children while Laura watches fondly, Noma clinging to her side. When she catches sight of Loki, his daughter squeals in delight, disappearing from Laura’s arms and reappearing at Loki’s feet, hugging his legs tight. Loki trips a bit in surprise before he chuckles and picks his daughter up, hugging her close. Relief races dizzy through his veins. He hopes he doesn’t faint again.

“Mama!” Noma cries in elation. “Mama, mama!” And she’s squirming about, patting over Loki’s cheeks and pulling at his hair like she feels Loki might disappear if she doesn’t discern that he is real, visceral. Loki presses kisses to the part of his daughter’s hair, her temples, her eyelids. He feels particularly guilty for worrying her when the whole thing ended up being a false alarm.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Loki coos, settling Noma on his hip once she stills. “Mother is sorry he had to leave. How are you feeling?”

“Happy see mama,” Noma states, nuzzling into his side. Loki’s heart feels like a piece of wax held over a candle. It’s melting down his ribs. Never in a million years would Loki have thought that he could love someone so much as he loves his daughter.

He ends up carrying Noma into the meeting room, where most of the Avengers have already gathered, along with their new galactic allies. Gamora is already in the middle of some sort of speech, and Loki lingers at the back of the room, Noma dozing against his chest.

“He was an anomaly among his people,” Gamora continues, voice carefully controlled. She’s trying to appear confident, but Loki can tell by the tightness of her shoulders that she’s nervous, uncomfortable. “Born physically marked. They made him an outcast. When their planet was in danger, they dismissed his ideas to save it. He is the last of his people.”

“Mama,” Noma whispers. She’s obviously gripped the gravity of the situation she’s in. “Noma go to Papa?”

“Be quiet about it,” Loki agrees, setting her down on the floor. Toddling over to Thor, Noma lifts her arms to him. Smiling gently, Thor lifts her up to rest against his chest.

“After the fall of Titan, Thanos became power-mad. He gained control of the Chautari, and with them, massacred whole races of people. He decimated my planet when I was a child, and took me to train me.” Gamora’s eyes are far off: in another place, in another time. Peter brushes a soft hand against hers, and she seems to come back to herself. “He sent my sister and I after the stones. I…I couldn’t stay at his side. Not after what I had seen him do.” And Loki is surprised when Gamora looks back to purposefully meet his gaze. Her eyes are rife with with barely-concealed sorrow. “We know that he is currently in possession of the reality and power stones. I’ve tracked the space, mind, soul and time stones to Terra. If I can, he can too.”

“The space and mind stones are here.” Rogers speaks up after a moment. When Gamora blinks up at him in surprise, Rogers motions to the Vision. The synthetic human closes his eyes, and the gem embedded in his forehead lets out an ethereal canary glow.

“And the space stone?” She asks. Pushing off from his place against the doorframe, Loki slowly makes his way over to Noma, gathering her from Thor’s arms and turning her to face Gamora.

“This is my daughter, Noma.” He introduces, carefully swiping a thumb beneath her lids. Noma’s lashes flutter before she blinks, the power of the Tesseract surging to glint in her eyes. “I…she was exposed to the Tesseract and it chose her as its host.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Starlord looks from Loki to Thor and back again. “How is she containing it? The last time we encountered an infinity stone…it took _all_ of us to handle its power.”

Loki’s eyebrows raise, but before he can open his mouth, Thor speaks up. “God,” He says, pointing to himself. “God,” He repeats, pointing to Loki. “Goddess.” He finishes, poking Noma on the tip of the nose. She giggles and grabs at his finger.

“Right.” Starlord says slowly, but he still looks a fair bit uncertain. Loki has started to place what exactly is off about the Terran. He may be human in part, but there is definitely something otherworldly to his genetic make-up. The air about him seems to almost _vibrate_ slightly, filled with a sort of power that reminds Loki of something he’s seen before, only once.

“Celestial,” He breathes after a moment, realization hitting him. “You’re Celestial.”

Peter’s amber eyes go sharp, alert. “How did you know that?”

“I’ve met one of your kind before. Only once.” Loki thinks back, shakes his head. “He was travelling the galaxy. He mentioned children?” At the look that starts to appear on Starlord’s face, Loki snaps his mouth shut, shifts from foot to foot. Probably best to not mention that the man had asked Loki if he was interested in carrying a half-Celestial offspring. For his, Peter’s and Thor’s sake.

“He’s a what?” Peter Parker calls from the table behind them, and Loki looks to Starlord. The man is biting the inside of his cheek, unsure. Loki clears his throat after a moment.

“A Celestial. They are beings older than this universe itself. The Gods before Gods like Thor and I were even a speck of matter in the galaxy.” He shakes his head softly. “They have incredible power. Unlimited, even.”

“That would have been nice to know a little earlier,” Tony says, still-gauntleted arms crossed across his chest. “You planning on using a little bit of that unlimited power against Thanos?” From his seat next to him, the Captain frowns and gives Tony an elbow. Stark glances over at him, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t…” And Gamora seems to soften a bit at Peter’s floundering. She brushes their forearms together, and Starlord seems to take strength from that. “I’m not actually sure how far my power goes. I haven’t…tested it. I just learned about it recently, myself.”

“Anything else we should know about you all?” Sam asks from where he’s leant against the opposite wall to Loki. “What is it exactly that you can do?”

“I shoot things,” Rocket, the bipedal raccoon, chirps from the seat he’s taken on top of one of Stark’s display cabinets. Tony twitches in his seat, obviously worried about the Mach-One memorabilia that is contained behind the glass.

“I am Groot,” says the humanoid tree, barely looking up from the device he has cradled in his hands.

“Manners,” Gamora admonishes, and Groot looks up, eyes rolling dramatically. Turning off the annoyingly cheery music blaring from his device, the Flora Colossus casts his gaze across the crowd.

“I am Groot,” he says again, like they’re supposed to understand what that means. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki sees Peter and Shuri exchange confused glances.

A voice speaks up from the back of the room, and Loki looks back to see the Vision watching Groot, mind stone glinting with light. “He says that he is happy to meet all of us. He is Groot, the last of the Flora Colossus. He has many strengths and abilities.”

“I am Groot,” The being states once more, apparently pleased at being understood. Immediately after, he goes back to his game. Gamora and Peter catch each others’ gazes over Groot’s head, having a conversation entirely consisting of the changing of facial expressions.

“Greetings, humans!” Booms Drax, the blue humanoid who had triggered their false alarm in the first place. “I am Drax the Destroyer. I possess superior strength and intellect, which I will use to defeat this Titan and save the universe. Your help will be appreciated, but not necessary for victory.”

Sardonic chuckles break out amongst the Avengers gathered in the room, and Rhodey throws his hands up, sitting back in his chair.

“Well shit, why are we here, then?”

Peeping out from behind Drax, the insectoid, Mantis, lets out a giggle. Her antenna twitch in amusement. “He thinks highly of himself,” She says. “Though sometimes he overestimates his own abilities. My name is Mantis. I am an empath.”

“An empath,” Wanda says softly, and when Loki looks at her, her eyes are alight. She’s confided in Loki that she feels almost entirely alone in her abilities to read others’ minds, an outcast among the group. She has no one with which to talk about her experiences. Loki hopes that this Mantis will give Wanda that chance.

“How does it work?” Tony asks, and the woman moves out from behind Drax, stepping up to Tony’s seat at the table. The inventor watches her closely, but doesn’t lean away.

“Would you like a demonstration?” She asks amiably, and, after a moment of hesitation, Stark nods. Reaching out, Mantis molds her hand against the side of his neck, and the tips of her antennae flash silver.

“You are…uncertain,” Mantis states, inky-black eyes far-off. “About us. You do not like that Peter is a Celestial. You see this as a threat to your family here. You fear that harm may come to them. You fear their deaths, as you love them.” Tony’s jaw works soundlessly for a moment, and just as he’s about to tell her to stop, Mantis begins speaking again. “But not all the love you feel is familial. There is one, here, for whom you feel romantic love. Sexual even. That is—“ And finally, Tony reaches out, grabs her wrist.

“I, uh, think I’ve had enough of a demonstration,” He says quickly, heat raising to his cheeks. Immediately, people begin to chatter. Clint and Rhodey are both calling for Mantis to finish her sentence. Peter is bouncing up and down at Tony’s side, babbling excitedly about being considered family. But Loki’s eyes are on the Captain, who is watching Tony, eyes inquisitive, considering. Stark won’t look at him.

Patting Tony’s shoulder, Quill has a bit of a smirk on his face. “I know that feel, buddy,” He states. Tony snorts and looks back at him, seeming to relax.

The meeting continues for another hour or so. Gamora lays it all out on the table: every weakness Thanos has, every way she can think of to incapacitate him, take him down. After this, they decide the best next course of action is to go looking for the time and soul stones. If they can get four stones to Thanos’ two, they may be able to stop this war before it even begins.

Later that day, the Captain, Starlord, Shuri, T’Challa and Sam leave with Gamora’s radar to search for the time stone, which is pinging somewhere in New York. Rogers had looked to Stark, tipped his head.

“You coming, Tony?”

“Nah,” the inventor had replied, not meeting his eyes. “I’m gonna hang back here.”

After the meeting room had cleared out, Loki had turned to Thor, pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Take Noma, please? I’d…there’s something that I should attend to.”

Gaze flicking to Gamora for a moment, Thor had nodded, taking a sleeping Noma from Loki’s arms. He returned the kiss before leaning close, murmuring softly.

“Call for me if you need me. I will come.”

Gamora is leaning against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows when Loki approaches, staring off across the vast fields outside the complex and into the distance.

Going to speak, Loki nearly swallows his own tongue when Gamora’s voice sounds first. “I watched,” She says, hand pressed against the glass. “I watched as he tortured you. I watched as he picked apart your mind, broke your body, as he did to me. And I did nothing. I didn’t help you.” Fingers curling into a fist against the window, Gamora lets out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

Shoulders relaxing his his exhale, Loki presses his side to the window, facing Gamora. After a moment, she moves to do the same.

“Do you remember,” He asks, hands cupping under his swollen belly. “A few months after he imprisoned me, he broke all of my fingers, one at a time. Then he moved to my feet.” Swallowing against the shake to his voice, Loki looks up to meet Gamora’s gaze. “After, when I was lying on the ground, barely conscious, losing blood, you came to me. Gave me a potion to drink. You said to me: ‘Bite your cheek. It gives you something to focus on. Never look him in the eyes, and never make a sound when he hits you.’”

The Zehoberei shakes her head, looks down to her booted feet. “I should have _stopped him_ , though. I could have. He listened to me. But I let him hurt you, and I let him hurt…”

“Your sister,” Loki supplies gently when Gamora trails off, eyes gone to some far-off place again. “How is your sister?”

“She’s…she’s well. Or she was, the last time I saw her,” Gamora says weakly. “She…I think she forgave me. I should have protected her, Loki. She looked up to me. All she wanted was a sister.”

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Loki rubs along his bump, something he has become wont to do during this pregnancy. It comforts him, helps him think. Gamora’s eyes, once they come back to the present, trail down his arms to land on his swollen tummy.

“I think,” Loki murmurs, “that she understands why you acted the way you did. Can you honestly tell me that you believe Thanos wouldn’t have punished you had you stood between him and I? Him and Nebula?”

Gamora is silent for a long minute, turning to stare out the window once more. When she speaks, her voice is soft. “I should have been a sister to her,” She laments.

“All is not lost,” Loki says. “It is not over. There is still time. Tell her how you feel. She will listen.” And he smiles gently, pats his bump. Shaking her head softly, Gamora looks back to him.

“I…I think I will. Thank you,” And Loki dips his head to her, relaxed against the wall.

“So, you and Mr. Muscles, huh?” She asks after she pulls herself out of the quiet reverie she’d been settled in. Loki chuckles, feeling a bit of heat rise to his cheeks.

“It is not a new development. Thor and I have been dancing around each other since we were boys. Though it was a well-timed mistake that finally forced us to admit it.”

“Your daughter?” Gamora asks, and Loki hums, nodding.

“Noma was not planned, though she was wanted and very much loved when we found out about her. The boys,” And he pats his tummy fondly. “They were more or less planned, I suppose.”

“The _boys?_ ”

“They are twins,” Loki clarifies. “I was not this round with Noma at four months along. Sometimes I wonder if I will make it to the end without bursting. I feel as though I am walking around with a boulder strapped to my middle.” And Loki circles his arms wide around his bump, waddling about and pantomiming walking with a rock about his waist. It gets Gamora to laugh, a sound that Loki is sure rarely passes her lips. She presses a hand to her lips, cheeks a dark green.

Once the laughter dies down, Gamora looks up at Loki earnestly, takes his hands in hers.

“We’re going to defeat him,” She says softly. “We will. For your children. For the galaxy.”

Squeezing back, Loki feels confident for the first time in almost a year. “We are.” He confirms.

After, when he goes to find Thor, Loki stumbles into a scene that leaves him momentarily speechless. In the main common area, Thor is sat in a chair, preening proudly as Drax and Mantis stroke over his muscles as if they are the finest, softest fur.

“I once slayed ten bilgesnipes in a day with my bare hands,” Thor announces, chin tilted high. Drax booms out a hearty laugh, squeezes his hand around Thor’s bicep.

“I do not know what that is, but it must have been a quite impressive feat!” He croons, patting Thor’s bicep in some sort of bizarre show of camaraderie. Starlord, who is sitting in the corner with Noma in his lap, looks a bit put-out.

Loki watches the goings-on for a moment more before he clears his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. When Thor turns to sheepishly smile at Loki, Mantis’s antenna light silver once more.

“You feel embarrassed,” She says, before her eyes go wide in something like awe. “But you also feel love. So much love, deep and pure. It is adoration, endearment, tenderness, intimacy…” Her obsidian eyes go liquid-warm. “It is more love than I have ever felt.”

Loki and Thor’s gazes catch, and they stare at each other, speechless, for a moment. The silence is broken when Drax begins to bellow out a laugh, deep and loud.

“The blue fluid-person is blushing! Look! They turn purple when they are embarrassed!”

“You can use male pronouns with me,” Loki forces out after a moment, all he can think to say after Mantis’s declaration.

Slowly standing from his chair, Thor approaches Loki, still smiling sheepishly. Now, there are pink spots high on his cheekbones. “Loki,” He begins, and the Jötunn wags a finger at him.

“Charming our new friends, are we? Don’t forget to tell them what happened when you decided to go after that _eleventh_ bilgesnipe.” And he turns to Drax and Mantis, ignoring Thor’s embarrassed sputtering. “He got himself near clean run through with an antler. Instead of going to the healers, he came to me, collapsed on my bed, and bled all over my nice sheets. And then he blubbered like an infant the whole time I was stitching him up.”

“There was an _antler_ in my _abdomen,_ ” Thor defends weakly, but Loki just raises an imperious eyebrow at him.

Leaving Thor to sputter out excuses to his new friends, Loki goes over to Peter, settles down beside him. Noma is curled comfortably in Starlord’s lap, fast asleep. He’s got a hand rubbing wide circles on her back.

“She’s adorable,” He says after a moment, and Loki leans his head back against the wall.

“Thank you,”

“I…I can feel it.” And when Loki looks over at him, Peter elaborates. “The power inside of her. I can feel the space stone.”

“I was foolish.” Loki states, reaches out to thread his fingers in Noma’s curly hair. “I made a mistake. I took the stone to protect it, but I was unaware that Noma was being exposed to it while she was in utero.” Noma shifts in her sleep and makes a contented noise, and Loki sighs, tipping his head to look down at her. “She is my world. I will do anything to keep her safe from Thanos.”

Peter is quiet, considering, for a while. Noma continues to sleep, blissfully unaware of the conversation going on about her.

“It can be separated from her,” He says after a while more, not looking up at Loki. His eyes, swirling like twin galaxies, are fixed on Noma’s sleeping form. “She is hosting it, but it is not one with her being. They still exist as two.”

Loki’s breath catches in his throat. He looks up at the half-Celestial, trying to keep the hope that’s blooming in his chest from choking him. “How do you know that?” He asks, barely masking the pure, unbridled _hope_ in his tone. Peter does look up at him then, eyes bright.

“I can _feel_ it.” He says. “I just know it. I can’t tell you how. And I can’t tell you how we do it. But it can be separated from her.”

Before Loki can ask any more questions, two rooted feet appear in his field of vision.

“I am Groot,” The Flora Colossus says, arms crossed over his chest. Peter sighs and looks up at him, mouth slanted in a frown.

“Is that any way to ask for something that you want?” He asks, and Groot shuffles his feet, huffs out a breath.

“I am _Groot,”_ He tries again, and Peter relaxes, nods a bit. He turns to Loki.

“Is there any way Groot could get some food? He says that he’s hungry.”

“I…of course. But, erm, may I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“How do you know what he is saying?”

“We just, you know, ah…” And Peter looks confused, as if he’s never been asked that question before. He looks to Groot and back to Loki for a moment before he shrugs.

“We kinda just do.”

“Huh.” Loki says.

By the time they’ve gotten Groot a sandwich (made entirely of vegetables, may Loki add. Apparently, Groot is a _vegetarian_. Loki doesn’t know about the eating habits of the Flora Colossus as a species, but Groot eating plants seems strangely…cannibalistic, to him), the time stone group returns, with an extra person in tow. Again, Loki freezes, seiðr eating at his fingers, when he recognizes the figure: it’s the two-bit sorcerer that had sent him down that time-space hole over a year ago.

“I’m not sorry,” The man, whose name is apparently Doctor Strange, replies when Loki brings the incident up. When Thor crosses his arms in a thinly-veiled threat, the man shrugs again.

“I’m not.”

When they’re all gathered again, Strange opens the amulet around his neck, revealing the emerald-green glow of the time stone. In response, the gem in the Vision’s forehead flashes gold. Noma makes a noise, shifts in Thor’s arms as her eyes respond a vibrant blue.

Shuri, who has been standing off to the side, tinkering with her scanner, lets out a surprised noise when it whirrs to life on its own accord. Looking over the flashing text on her screen, the Princess of Wakanda speaks up.

“Their power is triangulating,” She says, eyes flicking rapidly over the data she’s being swarmed with. “It’s…resonating. I can’t think of a better way to describe it.”

The air in the room has changed, turned heavier, more oppressive. It’s as if it almost hurts to breathe. Noma is beginning to squirm in Thor’s arms, making noises of discomfort.

“Put down,” She says. “Papa, put _down!”_ And the voice that comes out of Noma isn’t hers, not really. There’s a force behind it, a power that makes Thor flinch and reach down, settling Noma on the ground.

The Vision seems to be in a similar state, ignoring Wanda’s questions as he stands, taking one of Noma’s little hands in his. Together, they walk towards the time stone, as if in a trance. Loki knows he should be moving, should be going after his daughter, but he finds that he can’t move. His muscles are stiff, unresponsive. A hard-fought-for glance around the room reveals the other Avengers in similar states.

The holders of the infinity stones reach out, cupping the time stone together between their hands. Suddenly, it’s as if the gravity in the room has increased tenfold. Loki cries out in pain, reaching out to get a hand around Thor’s arm and hold onto him as it feels like he might just be flattened to the floor.

Just when it feels as if Loki won’t be able to withstand the pressure any more, light flashes, blinding, behind his closed lids. If asked, Loki wouldn’t be able to describe the color. It isn’t exactly white, not exactly golden or silver. Somehow, the light seems to be every color at once, every color that Loki has ever seen and some that he hasn’t.

Once reality returns to normal, Loki peeks one eye open, and then the other. Each of the Avengers is in a similar state of disorientation: Peter is sitting dizzily against a wall, Tony has his head cradled in his hands, Natasha seems to be on the edge of consciousness. It takes Loki a moment to come back to himself, and when he does, his wild eyes search out his daughter. And when they find her, Loki’s heart sticks in his throat.

Noma, the Vision, and Strange are all still standing, hands spread in front of them. Between their hands, each of their respective stones floats, glowing softly with an ethereal light. But instead of the three stones Loki expects to see, there is now a fourth: levitating in the middle of the triangle of other stones, glowing a soft amber to match its siblings.

The soul stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, originally, the Titan himself was supposed to make his appearance at the end of this chapter. I decided I don't want the end of this fic to feel rushed, even though I do intend to finish the climax before Infinity Wars comes out. This means these next chapters need to come on a weekly basis. Unfortunately, this is also the time in the semester where all of my professors have assigned projects and papers, so I'm a pretty busy gal! I am going to try my hardest to find time to write, though.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tracker Gamora had been using to find the soul, mind, space and time stones also works on the reality and power stones, so they are able to monitor Thanos’ movements with relative accuracy. He’s sill on the outer-rim of the galaxy, but moving ever-nearer, stopping at planets along the way as he makes his trip steadily towards Earth.
> 
> “Gathering his armies,” Gamora had said softly when Stark asked what he could be doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lie about a lot of things.
> 
> Apparently, Stony is one of them.
> 
> All complaints (and praises) can be directed to @Foundlingmother, my PR agent and Stony enabler.

As soon as his frozen muscles allow, Loki rushes forward towards his daughter, ignoring Starlord’s calls to stay away from the bared infinity stones. When he reaches out to touch Noma, though, Loki’s hands strike some sort of invisible barrier, and he yelps as a shock of power rushes through his body. His legs give out and he crumples to his knees, head spinning as his vision goes spotty.

When he’s next fully aware of himself, he’s lain across Thor’s lap, head cradled in the dip between his thighs. There’s a familiar whining sound to his left, and when Loki turns his head with difficultly, he sees Bruce holding a wriggling Noma, who is kicking her little legs and calling out for her mama. When Bruce sees that Loki has come to, he lets her go, and Noma runs to Loki as fast as her little feet will carry her.

“It’s alright, Darling,” Loki murmurs as he pushes himself to sit up, hand to his aching temples. Noma has thrown herself over his lap, wailing like she’s just watched her mother perish. With how powerful the infinity stones are, perhaps that’s not so far out of the question.

When Noma looks up at him with tear-filled eyes, Loki notes that they have returned to the aquamarine glow of the space stone. He’d hoped, vainly, that the stone had separated itself from her body in that moment. Cupping her cheek, Loki uses his thumb to wipe at the tears.

Feeling a gentle hand in his hair, Loki looks up to see Thor watching him with concern etched across his face. Reaching up and taking the hand in his, Loki brings it to his mouth and places a gentle kiss there, trying to send Thor what he hopes is a reassuring smile. His husband returns it, if a little shakily, and smears his thumb across Loki’s cheekbone.

“I want you to see Svanhild,” He says quietly, and, just as Loki is about to protest, Thor’s hand slides to his bump.

_The babies._

Loki blinks in alarm, brings the hand that’s not holding Noma close to cup under his belly as if he’ll be able to reassure himself of the boys’ safety by this act alone. It doesn’t, and some sort of guilty panic begins eating its way up the back of Loki’s throat.

Before he can respond, though, he hears a shout to his left. Holding Noma close to his chest, Loki turns to look.

Tony is standing in front of where the soul stone still floats in the air, brown eyes lit amber by its glow. He’s staring at it with his head tipped, one hand slowly reaching out from his body as if he intends to touch it.

“Don’t!” Starlord exclaims, rushing forward, but Steve makes it first. The Captain wraps his hands around Tony’s shoulders and jerks him back, breaking Stark out of his trance-like state. They both go tumbling to the ground, with Tony landing messily across the Captain’s lap.

“I swear,” Starlord pants, looking over Tony in what seems a bit like disapproval. “What makes you all think that touching one of those things is a _good idea?_ They can _rip you apart_. _Never_ touch one with your bare hands.”

Stark’s eyes are dizzy, unfocused. “I…I didn’t,” He murmurs, shaking his head slowly. “I didn’t mean to—it was,” 

“It’s calling for a host,” Gamora interrupts, still breathless from the earlier shift in gravity. “The stone is desperate for survival, that’s why it appeared here. It believes you can protect it.”

Blinking rapidly, Stark murmurs, “me?” before he seems to realize the position he’s in. Scrambling up from his seat astride the Captain’s thighs, Tony backs away from the stone and his unwitting make-shift chair rapidly. “I—I can’t,” He says, before turning to look around the room with wide eyes. “Not me.” He finishes in a mumble, before turning and striding out of the room.

“Tony!” Steve calls from his seat on the ground, pushing up before he follows the inventor out of the room. It’s silent for a moment before Mantis speaks up softly.

“It will need a vessel. Something so that we can handle it without absorbing it or being obliterated.”

Standing shakily from where he’s been sitting, Loki holds out a hand and lets Thor steady him on his feet. After his head stops spinning, he settles Noma on one hip, using his other hand to draw sweeping shapes in the air. When it returns to his chest, Loki is holding a sphere of magic, colors ever-shifting in front of his eyes. Carefully sending it out, he watches as the opaque magic engulfs the soul stone, slowly descending in the air until it comes to rest on the ground with a soft clinking noise.

Letting Starlord be the one to pick up the newly-formed vessel, Loki glances about the room. Everyone seems to be watching him, uncertain. They’ve no idea what to do without both of their de-facto leaders, and Loki sighs, shakes his head a bit.

“Thor and I will make sure the stone stays safe, for now. Perhaps everyone should take the remainder of the day to relax.”

Soft murmurs of agreement drift throughout the room, and Thor approaches Quill, carefully accepting the ball of energy-made-solid from his hands.

Loki tasks Thor with putting Noma down for a nap, as her little head is bobbing under its own weight. Though he’s unsure of exactly what just happened, he’s sure it sapped a significant amount of his daughter’s energy. Loki himself will take the newly-encapsulated space stone into Stark’s labs, which he deems the safest place to store it at the moment. He promises to meet Thor in the medical wing as soon as he’s done.

Rounding the corner towards the entrance to Stark’s labs, Loki pauses as he hears hushed voices at the other end of the hall. Ducking back behind the wall, Loki quiets his breathing and strains his ears. Though much has changed for him in the past few years, some things still remain the same: Loki loves eavesdropping. The only thing Loki loves more than eavesdropping is probably other peoples’ drama.

“I’m not going to,” And Loki identifies the voice as Stark’s. It sounds hoarse, as if he’s been crying. “I _can’t._ I’m not strong enough.”

“I’m not asking you to do that, Tony,” And ten points for Loki, because he absolutely predicted that he’d hear Steve’s voice next. “I’d never ask you to do something like that. That’s not what I came after you for.”

“Then what?” And Stark sounds desperate. Loki tips his head, trying to get closer. He could spell himself invisible, but that would be far too easy. It takes all the fun out of being sneaky.

“Just—Tony.” And Loki smirks a bit at the shift in the Captain’s voice. Even before Mantis had given her little “demonstration” to Tony, Loki had noticed a certain…tension between the two men. A certain familiar tension.

“Are we not going to talk about this?”

Tony scoffs. “What is there to talk about, Steve?”

“You know what it is.” And there’s a scuffling sound before something bumps into the wall.

“Steve—“

“You’re going to pretend like it never happened. Is that what you want?”

“ _You left._ What is there to talk about?”

“Tony—“

“No.” And there’s that scuffling sound again. Another dull thud. “Dammit, Steve, I swear to God—“

“Language.” And Stark’s responding snort is full of venom. Loki shifts from foot to foot, cups one hand under his bump. As much as he loves where he thinks this is going, he is both entirely uninterested in listening to this petty squabbling any longer and a bit crunched for time. Transporting himself back to the beginning of the hallway, Loki approaches again, making his footsteps obvious this time. He hears a string of muffled curses before he rounds the corner into the hallway Stark and the Captain occupy.

Steve has Tony boxed in to a corner with his body, arms out by Stark’s ears and blocking his escape. As soon as Loki appears, the Captain mutters something under his breath and jumps back as if he’s been bitten by a snake. It gives Stark the perfect opportunity to flee, which he does, steadfastly avoiding Loki’s gaze as he takes off back towards the main building.

As Loki moves to press his palm to the print scanner on the door, he looks over at the Captain, who is blushing, staring resolutely at his feet. Clearing his throat a bit, Loki gets him to look up.

“I find it’s best to just say what needs to be said before you both lose the nerve,” Loki drawls. “If Thor and I had done that earlier, perhaps there’d be a fair few more children running about.”

The electronic door swooshes open and Loki steps inside, leaving the Captain to sputter out his excuses alone.

Thor is already with Svanhild when Loki appears in the medical wing, already starting to strip out of his shirt as he crosses the threshold.

“I just discovered the most interesting thing,” Loki says as he settles on the cot. “I’ll have to tell you about it later.”

“Have you?” Thor chuckles as he sits down at his side. The room goes fairly quiet as Svanhild begins her work, passing her hands over Loki’s abdomen and murmuring soft spells and incantations. After about twenty minutes of this, she straightens up, smiles.

“As far as I can feel, your majesties, the children are fine.” Loki lets out a sigh of relief, squeezing Thor’s hand softly. His husband squeezes back. “But you must be more careful with yourself, sire. The babies’ health depends upon your own.”

Thor gives him a raised eyebrow, a little “I-told-you-so.” Loki groans and drops his head back on the pillows.

“Wonderful, now I have both of you here to lecture me at the same time.”

After a good half-hour of promising over and over that he’ll keep himself safe (“If I can help it,” Loki had added every time,) Svanhild had acquiesced and moved to her basket of supplies.

“We might be able to determine the sexes of the babies, if you’d like.”

Loki looks to Thor for a moment before he shakes his head softly. “We already know.”

Svanhild’s eyebrows go into her hairline. “You know? How? Have you been seeing another healer?” And the old woman looks put-out, almost comically so. Loki can’t help but chuckle a little, and he reaches out to take her hand.

“Not unless you count Noma as a healer, no.”

The next few months are filled with strategy meetings and preparations. The tracker Gamora had been using to find the soul, mind, space and time stones also works on the reality and power stones, so they are able to monitor Thanos’ movements with relative accuracy. He’s sill on the outer-rim of the galaxy, but moving ever-nearer, stopping at planets along the way as he makes his trip steadily towards Earth.

“Gathering his armies,” Gamora had said softly when Stark asked what he could be doing.

Speaking of Stark, it seems like Loki’s advice had garnered the opposite affect than what he was hoping for. Now, save for strategy meetings, he and Rogers can barely be in the same room for more than five minutes before one slings an insult and it turns into an all-out verbal fight. (It’s usually Stark who starts the fight, but the Captain had surprised Loki once by making a particularly stinging remark about Stark’s drinking habits). It had gotten so bad, once, that Bucky had landed his metal fist on a wooden coffee table, breaking it in two. The whole room had gone silent in shock.

“Work this out,” The man had gritted, brown eyes furious. “Before you get us all killed.”

Now, the two don’t fight. But they don’t talk, either.

Loki’s time is split between two subjects: about half the days of the week, he sits with Quill as the man observes Noma, trying to figure out a way to extract the stone from her body. It could be separated, as they had seen previously, but they were yet to find the catalyst that would cause it to do so. Most of the time, Noma just ends up climbing all over Quill until she exhausts herself and falls asleep in his lap.

“She’s so strong,” Quill had murmured one afternoon, stroking over Noma’s hair as she dozed. Loki had looked up from the ancient runes he was scouring, smiled a bit.

“That she is,” He replied.

The rest of his time is spent with Shuri, Strange, Banner, and Stark, trying to find a way to harness the power of the four stones that they have possession of. Often, they’re up late into the night, until the vermillion sunrise begins to shine in through the windows.

“Hey, four is better than two,” Stark had said, tinkering about with a scanner he’d been trying to repurpose. “If we can get all of our stones working together, we might be able to blast him back to whichever hole he crawled out of.”

“I think you’re underestimating just how powerful a Titan is,” Loki had replied, mindlessly fiddling with the soul stone in its crystalline prison. Stark had looked up at him through the seven layers of magnifying glasses he had in front of his eyes.

“And how powerful is that?”

Loki didn’t reply, eyes fixed on the wall, but seeing somewhere far-off, another place in another time. Stark had yelped at the elbow in the ribs he received from Shuri before realizing what was going on.

Time passes in a blur for Loki. Every day, Rogers holds a briefing in which Gamora reads off Thanos’ coordinates. Every day, he gets a little closer. And, as fate continues its endless march towards the day when Thanos finally arrives, Loki’s babies grow. He’d been right in his earlier predictions: by his sixth month, Loki waddles more than he walks, and he can only wear Thor’s tunics. He’s gotten so large that even his looser pants are becoming restrictive. A few other members of the Avengers offer their clothes up, but Loki takes one sniff of them and turns them away. There’s something in his base pair-bonding instincts that revolts at the thought of wearing something that smells of someone other than his mate. Thor teases him about it good-naturedly after Loki almost vomits when Rogers gets too near on one occasion.

“He doesn’t smell right,” Loki complains, pretending to resist stubbornly as Thor goes in for a kiss, eventually giving up.

Speaking of vomiting, Loki isn’t sure of how his intestines are still inside his body. He is vomiting almost _constantly,_ and not even just in the morning hours. He gets a whiff of anything vaguely fishy? Loki has to sprint to a trash can. Stands up too fast? Thor has to go get a rag. Gets close enough to smell any male other than his mate? Loki is incapacitated for the rest of the day. It’s ridiculous, really. Loki feels almost entirely useless, and he still has a good two and a half months left of pregnancy.

“Thor,” He calls one morning, rolling over to press his cold feet up against the small of his husband’s back. Thor jostles out of sleep with a yelp, scrambling away from Loki so fast that he almost falls off the bed. When he pops back up, Loki is staring at a ruffled, stubbly, disgruntled god of thunder.

“So sorry to disturb you, but the boys are craving something tart,” He says sweetly, and watches Thor’s face shift from mildly annoyed to tender in an instant. He leans over and presses a kiss to Loki’s forehead softly.

“Anything for the boys,” He teases, and Loki snorts and kicks weakly at his rear end as he turns to leave.

Any and every moment not spent planning for Thanos’ arrival is spent with his family. Loki and Thor won’t admit it to themselves, much less to each other, but they’re stockpiling moments with each other as if time is rapidly running out. (It might be.)

Clint had suggested this “roller-skating” when Loki had approached him to ask for activities that Noma might enjoy. After a little prodding at Tony, the billionaire had agreed to rent out a center for them for a couple hours, as Loki wasn’t so keen on exposing Noma to the constant attention Thor received from the public. The idea had seemed simple enough: put on special shoes with wheels in order to skate about on a wooden floor. Even if it sounded a little underwhelming to Loki, he was willing to try just about anything if Noma would enjoy it.

It is a lot more complicated than that, Loki learns rapidly.

Noma had picked the sport up almost immediately. For half of an hour she had pushed about a little walker on wheels in order to keep her balance, but within the first hour she was skating about without it, squealing in delight.

Loki had not been so quick to pick up the skill. Before he’d even stepped on the skating floor, he had fallen immediately onto his rear, unprepared for the inertia his skates would provide on carpet. Thor had chuckled good-naturedly and reached down to help Loki up, before the shift in his center of gravity had sent him tumbling down as well.

They had lain next to each other, laughing hysterically until Noma had skated up to them, calling for them to join her.

“Shall we?” Thor had asked with a warm smile, offering his hand.

“I’ll do my best,” Loki had replied, taking it.

If Loki is bad at roller-skating, Thor is even worse. It must have something to do with his size and disproportional arm muscles, Loki muses as he watches his husband slip and fall for what must be the twelfth time. They had been skating with their hands linked before Thor had slipped and pulled Loki down with him one too many times. Now, he skates next to Noma, who giggles and glides up to her father.

“Daddy fall down,” She says, and Thor shakes his hair out of his remaining eye, grinning up at his daughter.

“Yes, Daddy seems to do that a lot, doesn’t he?”

After a while, Loki grows fatigued, and he takes a seat on one of the benches on the side of the floor as Thor pulls himself up again, taking Noma’s little hand in his when she offers it.

“Noma teach,” She declares, tugging at Thor’s hand. “Help Daddy. Daddy watch.”

“Teach away, Princess,” Thor smiles, and Loki’s heart grows warm.

Noma spends an hour meticulously teaching her father how to skate, propping him up with her magic whenever Thor slips and makes to fall. After a while, she lets go of his hand, cheering enthusiastically when Thor makes a whole lap around the floor on his own without any accidents.

“Good Daddy!” She exclaims, giggling brightly when Thor scoops her up and presses bristly kisses to her cheeks.

“Thank you, Princess. Daddy loves you.”

“Noma loves Daddy,” The toddler giggles, throwing her chubby arms around Thor’s neck. From his seat on the sidelines, Loki tears up a bit, drying the moisture with his sleeves before anyone can notice. Damned pregnancy hormones.

They end up picking up ice cream cones on their way back to the complex. Thor gets chocolate, Loki vanilla, and Noma chooses a swirl of both flavors. She gobbles at her cone enthusiastically as they sit on the grassy hill outside of the Avengers complex, watching the sun set crimson over the skyline.

“Silly girl,” Loki coos as he reaches out to thumb some ice cream from the tip of Noma’s nose. It’s all over her cheeks and chin, too, but Loki figures that’s a lost cause. Noma giggles and springs up, planting a messy kiss on Loki’s cheek. While Loki is still sputtering in surprise, Thor leans over and does the same to his other cheek, leaving twin spots of ice cream on Loki’s face. 

“Treasonous, both of you,” Loki says as his husband and daughter giggle conspiratorially together.

Noma falls asleep soon after she finishes her cone, half-sprawled across Thor’s lap with her feet in Loki’s. Sitting back, Loki watches the stars appearing in the night sky as Thor crunches away at what’s left of his cone.

“Which one do you think is mother?” He asks after a while of comfortable silence. Thor looks up, bringing his hands together to make a compass. He twists them this way and that, looking through the hole his thumbs and pointer fingers make in the middle.

“That one,” He declares after a moment, directing Loki’s gaze towards a star to the north, shining bright against the navy backdrop of the night sky. Loki hums, watches it twinkle for a while.

“She’s still watching,” He murmurs, leaning over to rest his head on Thor’s shoulder. Thor presses a kiss to his temple.

“That, she is.”

Two weeks before Loki passes into his eighth month of pregnancy, the time comes for the Asgardians to be evacuated to Wakanda. Loki spends the whole week preceding gathering everything he can for Noma. He packs everything she will need, along with a few things of sentimental value that Loki convinces himself are a result of his pregnancy hormones. Frigga’s pendant and the crystalline dagger Thor gave Loki all those years ago are added to Noma’s pack, along with Frigga’s flute and a few of Loki’s most well-loved books on seiðr. He packs her never-melting ice crystal and her favorite stuffed horse as well. After this, Loki sits back, pulls a small piece of paper from his pocket. It is a photo, taken only a few months ago at Noma’s second birthday. On the page, Loki and Thor smile at the camera, holding Noma between them in their laps. The toddler is stuffing a fistful of birthday cake in her mouth.

Loki chuckles, but soon enough the sound turns into sniffles, and then into full-on tears. He holds the picture tight to his chest as he doubles over, body wracked with sobs. He’s packing his daughter’s things with the assumption that once he sends her with Svanhild, he will never see her again. It _hurts._ Loki’s hand curls into a fist over his heart, as if he’s trying to claw the offending organ out and relieve himself of the sheer and utter _grief_ that he feels. He sends unforgiveable curses up to the Norns, furious that they could give him so much just to take it all away. He’s spent millennia acting like a fool, pushing away everyone close to him in an attempt to guard himself. And now that he’s let Thor in, has begot the most beautiful child he could ever hope for with him, he may lose all of it in an instant.

Thor finds him like that, curled over himself on the ground, dried tears tracing tracks down his cheeks. When Loki shakily shows him the photo, Thor scoops him up, and they hold each other, sharing their grief.

The next morning, Thor and Loki stand before their people, all carrying packs of what little they own. Loki looks upon them, grief pulling at his heart strings. It has been such little time since they lost the only home they’d ever known, and now they are being forced from another place where they’ve grown to become comfortable. Hopefully, if all goes well, they will be able to return.

“Our prayers follow you,” Thor says to them, but Loki can hear the minute waver to his voice. “Loki and I will come to join you once we have made sure it is safe once more.”

Asgardians shift, murmuring to each other softly. They obviously are just as uncertain as Loki as to whether they’ll see their King and Queen again. Thor goes off to help his people load their luggage onto the jets T’Challa has provided them with, and Loki lingers on the side, holding Noma close.

After a while, Svanhild approaches, Thor trailing behind her quietly. He knows what must be done, and Loki’s knees threaten to give out on him as a fresh wave of grief sweeps over him. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard. This is what must be done to ensure Noma’s safety.

Slowly kneeling down, Loki sets Noma on the ground, takes her tiny hands in his own shaking ones. He squeezes softly, gives Noma a watery smile.

“Noma, Darling, you’re going to go with Svanhild for a while. She’s going to take good care of you. Will you be good for her?”

Noma blinks up at him, celeste eyes wide. She pops her thumb out of her mouth. “Mama and Daddy go too?”

Swallowing against the shake to his voice, Loki shakes his head smally. “Mama and Daddy have to stay here, Love. But it will not be for long. Mama promises.”

It takes a moment for what Loki’s said to register in Noma’s brain, but as soon as it does, her little lower lip begins to tremble. Loki takes a deep breath and steels himself as the tears come, and he pulls a squirming Noma to him, presses a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Mother loves you, Noma,” He chokes out, trying to speak over her wails. “More than anything in this galaxy. I promise I will come to get you soon. I promise you.” And he sits back as Thor approaches, lifts Noma into his arms and hugs her tight. Noma is still crying, pressing her little face into Thor’s neck and clutching him tightly.

“Your Majesty,” He hears, and he looks up through teary eyes to see Svanhild standing above him. “Come with us. Please.”

“Go with them, Loki,” And it’s Thor, looking down at him, remaining eye filled with tears. “ _Please.”_

It’s unfair of them to do this to him now, while Loki is at his weakest. His heart is yearning to follow Svanhild, take Noma and hold her to his chest, assure her that everything is going to be alright. But he can’t promise her that, now. And Loki has sworn to himself that he will fight until he can promise Noma that she is safe. Or…until something else happens entirely.

As they stand back and watch the ship lift into the sky, Loki presses his face into Thor’s chest and cries until he has no more tears to shed.

The remaining two weeks pass at mach-speed. Loki is mostly confined to bed: he’s easily winded now, and there are days that he can’t stand without feeling like he might pass out cold. Stark’s got one of his doctor friends on-call, but she’s not Svanhild, and her succinct diagnoses leave Loki uncomfortable and disquieted. Loki has no idea what preeclampsia is, but it certainly doesn’t _sound_ good.

He does manage to get himself out of bed for their last briefing meeting, where Gamora looks up from her tracker and quietly murmurs, “any time within the next twenty-four hours.” Thor’s hand squeezes tight around Loki’s. The rest of the Avengers nod solemnly, exchanging soft words and reassurances.

It’s been decided that Stark, Sam, Rhodey, and Starlord are to keep first watch, allowing everyone else to rest up for what was sure to be the fight of (and for) their lives. It wasn’t likely anyone was going to actually sleep, though.

“You ready?” Natasha asks as she passes Loki and Thor on their way back to their quarters.

“As I’ll ever be,” Loki responds softly.

As Loki silently undresses for bed, a hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s turned about and into a kiss. When Thor pulls back, his remaining blue eye is raw with emotion.

They make love thrice that night, with Loki lain on his back and Thor gently pressing inside him, carefully coaxing orgasm after orgasm from Loki until he can no longer keep his eyes open. As he drifts off into a troubled slumber, Loki muses that it had felt like a goodbye.

The compound-wide alarm goes off in the wee hours of the morning, and Loki sits up immediately, resisting the urge to vomit at the sudden movement. Thor is up soon after, looking over at him.

They nod to one another.

When Thor and a very winded Loki arrive on the front lawn, the other Avengers are already present, suited up. They’re all gathered around something, and Thor takes Loki’s hand, pushes through so they can see what’s going on.

It’s Rhodey, Sam, and Quill, all looking alarmed and trying to answer questions as the others shout at them. After a moment, Thor holds his hands up, calling a loud crack of thunder. When the group quiets, Loki speaks up.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Stark,” Quill says, wringing his hands. “As soon as one of his satellites raised the proximity alarm, he took off.”

“He _took off?”_ the Captain demands, voice sounding strained. “ _Where?”_

Slowly, Quill looks up, and, one by one, all of the Avengers follow suit.

Breaking through the cloud cover is a _massive_ ship, quite possibly bigger than the compound itself, and certainly bigger than Loki has ever seen in his life. Its perimeter is lined with lights, and trees begin to bend and sway at its presence even before it nears the ground.

Suddenly, something shoots out of the sky, and crashes to the ground in a deep crater. Shield raised, the Captain rushes towards it, Bucky and Sam following suit before the rest of the Avengers begin to move. Pushing to the front of the group, Loki looks down.

It’s Stark.

He’s sprawled out at the bottom of the crater that his fall created, armor scuffed and mangled beyond repair. The Captain jumps down the short distance to the bottom and reaches to hit the release switches on Tony’s helmet, slowly lifting it off to reveal his face. It’s bruised and battered, a black circle already beginning to form around his left eye.

He murmurs something brokenly, too soft to hear, and the Captain carefully cups his head.

“What?”

Tony’s eyes open, and their brown depths are charged with terror.

_“Run.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeere's Thanos~
> 
> Jeez, y'all, I didn't expect this chapter to be so supercharged with emotions, but it kind of just all came out. I'll admit, I got a little teary-eyed when Loki was packing Noma's things.
> 
> Oh, and also, at the addition of Stony: sorry to all my Stucky shipper readers. Stony was my first Marvel ship, and the cards just stacked in the right way for me to add them to this fic. Last chapter also got a fair few comments encouraging me to add the ship to the fic, so I hope y'all are happy! ;) If you're not happy, I can promise you they aren't going to be a big deal at the end of this fic. The focus will still be on Thorki. If you feel you have to discontinue reading because of the addition of Stony, I'm sorry to see you go, but I respect your decision.
> 
> Oh, and a side note. Tony wasn't trying to flee, though I could see how it came off like that. He was being a self-sacrificial piece of shit and trying to figure out if there was a way he could stop the ship before it landed. Obviously, he couldn't. Lol.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Still fight in you yet,” Thanos comments when he recovers, sounding, at the least, a bit impressed. “It always mystifies me how vermin like you hold so much will to live, even when it is so obvious that you are to die. Dread it, silvertongue. Run from it. Destiny still arrives.”
> 
> “Destiny wasn’t counting on me,” Loki snarls, brandishing his weapons. “Never underestimate an Odinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got your tissues? Got your bag of Cheetos? Maybe a friend, pet or stuffed animal for if you need a hug?
> 
> Good. Let's go.

Despite the minor pitfall of Tony not following the agreed-upon plan (and, honestly, when did he ever), the Avengers fall in to action immediately. Steve helps Stark up, supporting him as he limps over to Strange, who takes him from the Captain’s arms and draws some quick symbols in the air. Stark straightens, seemingly healed, and Loki turns so that his front is facing Thor to conceal the magic he’s slinging.

By the time the ship lands, Loki is waiting next to Thor, a perfect illusion of Noma settled on his hip, and his stomach smoothed flat with glamour magic.  His heart is in his throat. Thor’s hand is curled around Loki’s free one, but it does little to nothing to abate the sheer _terror_ that is pulsing through Loki’s veins. He’s spent years running, hiding, doing all that he can to make sure Thanos never finds him. And now, as the massive doors to the ship before him being to open with a _hiss_ of hydraulics, Loki is slowly stepping forward, Thor at his back. Ready to face this demon that has been haunting him since he fell from the Bifrost.

First to file out of the ship are Thanos’s guards, beings Loki had heard about in his time on Titan but never actually met in person. He’d heard tales, though, from the other poor creatures Thanos kept captive in his fortress. They are all armed, but each of the four beings carry their weapons at their sides, relaxed. It’s as if they don’t even consider the group waiting for them to be a threat. Loki hears shuffling and the clinking of metal behind him, likely from the line of Avengers straightening, preparing. Loki takes a deep breath, swallows harshly. He closes his eyes for a moment to focus on the weight of Thor’s hand in his, the feeling of Noma against his side. Though he knows she’s not really there with him, he draws strength from the link he shares with his daughter. He can feel her, even now, in the back of his mind. She is safe. She’s asleep, if the relative calmness he feels from her side of the bond is any indication.

Loki wishes he could take some of that tranquility for himself. Because the next being that steps onto the walkway of the ship has haunted Loki’s every nightmare for years.

Thanos is much the same as he was before: still giant, still ugly, still a shade of purple coming somewhere in-between toxic waste and a sickly elephant. He surveys the people gathered in front of him like some sort of haughty conqueror, the smirk on his face suggesting that he thinks he’s already won. There is one thing different about him, though: the bronze infinity gauntlet which adorns his left hand. Two stones already sit, gleaming, at his knuckles: the power and reality stones, one of which had been taken from the destroyed Nova empire. The other, Gamora explained, had been left with a mysterious being called the Collector. When she had described the man to him, Loki had quirked one eyebrow, frowned a bit. He couldn’t place why, but, for some reason, the eclectic being had sounded familiar to him.

“This is what Earth offers me as a challenge?” The mad titan booms, casting a critical eye on the Avengers, who have now taken up arms. “Pathetic. I was quite hoping I’d have to at least put in a little effort. My last few conquests have been ridiculously easy. I’m starting to get bored.”

It takes all the self-control Loki can gather to keep himself from scoffing. He’d been in the same position before, years ago: looking to conquer Earth, facing the Avengers down as enemies. It certainly hadn’t been an easy endeavor. He hopes Thanos’s efforts will be just as in vain as Loki’s were.

“Thanos,” Loki says, and is proud at how his voice does not waver. When Thanos turns to look at him, his face splits in to an eerily wide grin, as if he had not noticed Loki’s presence to begin with. It sends chills racing straight up Loki’s spine, and he digs his nails into Thor’s palm.

“Loki Silvertongue,” He drawls, sounding far too pleased. “It’s been too long. I’m sorry that I didn’t come to make good on my promise to you as soon as you failed me. I had more… _important_ things to deal with. I’m so very glad that you are here, though. It will save me the time I would have spent hunting you down to kill you.” Before Loki can respond, though, Thanos tips his head, seems to zero in on the copy of Noma in his arms. “And who is this?”

“This,” And Loki’s voice does waver this time. He has to swallow hard before continuing, and Thor moves infinitesimally closer to his side. “This is my daughter, Noma.” And the copy of Noma blinks, coos curiously. The sound of her little voice, so close to Thanos’s, makes Loki’s stomach churn. He has to remind himself that the real Noma is far, far away, safe for now.

“A lovely little thing,” Thanos posits, and Loki has to swallow the bile that tries to rise up in his chest. Thor is stock-still beside him, but Loki can feel the minute quivers running through his body, as if he’s trying to hold his power back. “And such striking eyes. I’ve only seen such a color…but once before.”

Now is the time to continue their plan.

“Noma is the keeper of the space stone,” Loki says, tries to keep his voice neutral. “If you would be amenable, I have a deal to offer you.”

“A deal,” Thanos says, sounding a mix between surprised, impressed, and incredulous. “Now, you offer me a deal. What could you possibly have to offer me?”

Steeling himself, Loki grits his teeth and takes a step forward, out of Thor’s reach. He misses the heat, the reassurance immediately, but every move he makes now is part of a carefully thought-out strategy. Bringing the copy of Noma up to his chest, Loki carefully holds her out.

“Find a way to extract the stone from her body, and it is yours to command,” He says, and is immediately interrupted by shouts from behind him. The other Avengers are, of course, in on Loki’s plan. After the whole debacle with the Tesseract, Loki had been loathe to deceive his friends a second time, along with Thor’s insistence that they had to work together in order to have a chance at survival.

“Fine,” Loki had said. “But I’m picking who gets to say what. Some of you are terrible actors.” 

“How could you?” Shouts Rhodey, who had been particularly good at giving emotionally compelling performances, in Loki’s opinion.

“We trusted you! I trusted you…” Peter trails off. (“I was in all of my elementary school’s plays,” he had crowed proudly to Loki a few months before. “They even cast me as Humpty Dumpty in our play about Mother Goose.”)

“Loki, no!” And Thor isn’t exactly a good actor, per se, but he’s had enough practice reacting to Loki’s various betrayals to put on a convincing show. “Beloved, there are other ways, _please…”_

Closing his eyes, Loki takes a deep breath and puts on a visage of guilt. Of course, he’d given himself the lead role in this little play they’d all come up with. He is, after all, the best actor. “All I ask for, in return, is a guarantee of the safety of my husband and child.”

Thanos seems to consider this for a moment, (looking, Loki is proud to say, relatively surprised). The sole female in Thanos’s guard slowly raises her spear, points it at Loki in a thinly veiled threat. Feeling electricity shift in the air, Loki turns his head the tiniest bit, shakes it. Thor immediately stands down, but the energy in the atmosphere about them does not dissipate.

“Your world in the balance,” Thanos finally says, smirk returning to his face, “and you bargain for two lives.”

“What do you say to my deal?” Loki presses, head tipped up in order to maintain some semblance of confidence.

“You are an interesting being, Silvertongue,” Thanos says, “the first time I met you, you begged like vermin for your own life. And now, as we meet again, you ask only for the lives of the unnatural family you’ve spawned.”

And Loki knows Thanos is simply trying to send him off-balance, goad him in to doing something reckless. He knows this, but his hackles begin to rise regardless, and he bites back the snarl that threatens to erupt from his throat.

“But fine, so be it. Give me the stone, and I will not harm your brother-husband or your inbred little maggot.”

Biting down on the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood, Loki forces out a “thank you.” Thanos extends his gauntleted hand, and Loki slowly approaches, holding Noma out. The guards have drawn their weapons now, watching Loki through slitted eyes.

A few things happen at once, then. Thanos makes contact with Noma, which triggers the transportation magic Loki had entwined with the double. A hail of arrows comes from the top of the complex, courtesy of Clint’s aim and Shuri’s impeccable engineering. They explode upon impact, sending the Black Guard flying backwards and damaging the interior of Thanos’s ship. And, finally, as the mirage of Noma shimmers away, Thanos reaches out and grabs Loki around the wrist.

“You’re coming with me,” He snarls, and Loki hears Thor cry out his name right before reality warps and they both disappear.

When Loki is next aware of himself, he’s sprawled out dizzily on the dusty ground, head aching something fierce. Putting a hand to his temple, he uses the other one to slowly boost himself up. The air around him is thinner somehow, colder. He runs a precursory hand over his bump to check for any injuries to the babies—none are apparent; at least, not on the surface level. Blinking to clear the sparks from his eyes, Loki promptly freezes when he sees what’s across from him.

Slowly standing is Thanos, who had obviously been knocked out by the burst of magic as Loki had. He brushes the reddish dust off of him as he stands, and Loki looks inside himself, searching for any last threads of seiðr that might be left over. Between manifesting a copy of Noma, transporting Thanos, and incubating the babies, Loki’s reserves are running on empty. He doesn’t have enough left to get himself away.

“Quite clever of you,” Thanos drawls, now standing at his full height. Loki carefully picks himself up from the ground, struggling a bit with the weight of his babes. The knowing smirk Thanos is watching him with sends a chill to the very marrow of his bones.

“You thought it wise to face me while you are so affected?” He asks, and Loki realizes belatedly that his glamours have worn off, making his pregnancy visibly obvious. He grinds his teeth at the back of his mouth and cups a hand protectively under the swell, drawing courage from his babies.

“I thought, if you succeeded, they were as good as dead anyways. I will not rest peacefully until I know my children can be delivered into a world where they are safe from the threat of annihilation.”

“Interesting,” Thanos notes, flexing his gauntleted hand. “When I first met you, you were running away from those things that challenged you. Weak, scared, cowardly. What has changed?”

“My children,” Loki responds levelly, chin tilted high and only wavering slightly. “My husband. My people. My friends.”

“Ah yes, your children. Your people.” And Thanos tips his head, smirk still firmly in place. “They seem to be noticeably absent, yes? The remainder of the Asgardians, and the holder of the space stone. It is interesting that you think that I will not be able to find them, silvertongue. There is no place that they can hide from me. And when I find your daughter, I’ll tell her just how her parents died. And, then, I’ll take the stone from her cold, still body.”

Loki knows that the longer he keeps Thanos here, the longer the Avengers have to dispatch the Black Order and the Chitauri without their hive mind. Rationally, he _knows_ this. But just the mention of Noma, the thought of Thanos coming anywhere near his daughter, forces a snarl from his throat. He sees red, baring his teeth in an obvious threat.

“Hit a nerve, have I?” Thanos asks, sounding entirely disinterested. “Actually, I can’t decide what I’d like more. Do I kill you first? Or do I keep you alive just long enough to watch your spawn die? Previously, I thought that I’d kill you slowly and painfully. But now you’ve offered me so many other options.”

“If I am for the axe, then for mercy’s sake, just swing it,” Loki says lowly, fists clenched so tightly that his claws are drawing blood from his own palms. “But leave Noma be.”

“Oh, you are for the axe,” Thanos responds. “But you lost the chance of my sparing your daughter when you allowed her to bond with the space stone. If it makes you feel any better, though, I never meant to spare any of you in the first place.” With this statement, he takes a step forward, forcing Loki to take one cowardly step back. If he had any control of this situation to begin with, it’s now woefully absent.

Glancing from side-to-side, Loki tries to find some escape, some piece of the topography that he might be able to use to his advantage. The realm they’re in is totally flat, though, no places for him to hide or take shelter. Closing his eyes and focusing deep inside, Loki feels out the heartbeats of his sons, their aura, their energy. As if they are able to feel their mother’s desperation, magic that is not Loki’s own seeps through his veins. It is magic of ice and fire, cool and warm at the same time. Loki can all at once see how his sons would have been in life. One pale and dark like him, the other golden and warm, like Thor. They would have been each other’s greatest allies. Best friends.

As Thanos approaches, gauntleted hand going for Loki’s neck, Loki cries out and releases the seiðr pulsing in his chest. His own magic, combined with the twins’, sends Thanos back a few feet, dazed. It gives Loki enough time to scramble backwards as far as he can get, unsheathing twin knives from the holsters at his thighs.

“Still fight in you yet,” Thanos comments when he recovers, sounding, at the least, a bit impressed. “It always mystifies me how vermin like you hold so much will to live, even when it is so obvious that you are to die. Dread it, silvertongue. Run from it. Destiny still arrives.”

“Destiny wasn’t counting on me,” Loki snarls, brandishing his weapons. “Never underestimate an Odinson.”

Reality around Thanos warps, and Loki has barely a second to whip around before he’s dodging the giant fist being thrown at him. The Titan holds two infinity stones, easily enough power to incinerate Loki thoroughly in less than a second flat. But it’s obvious that the Titan does not know exactly how to wield the power he holds. And this just might be Loki’s salvation.

Heavily encumbered with weight, Loki isn’t as lithe as he used to be. He has to bet on being able to predict and side-step Thanos’ moves, and he’ll have to find some way pry get the gauntlet from the Titan’s arm. Barely missing another sweep of Thanos’s fist, Loki ducks behind him and lands one of his knives directly between the Titan’s shoulder-blades. The cry Thanos releases is all fury and rage, and it makes Loki stumble a bit, brain trying to drag him back into memories of torture and isolation and despair. Steeling his jaw, Loki fights these thoughts off, savagely twisting the blade in deeper.

He doesn’t notice the Titan move until it’s too late, and suddenly there’s the feeling of cold metal against his throat. Loki gasps in, his last breath of air before the gauntleted fist tightens around his neck, choking him silent. Both hands go up to grab at Thanos’s fingers, remaining blade tumbling to the ground as Loki tries to pry the Titan’s fist open. It’s a futile effort though, and Loki is suddenly being lifted straight off the ground, feet dangling as he kicks in a last-ditch effort to free himself.

“I’ve decided,” Thanos snarls, eyes alight with rage. “You’ll die here and now, by my hand, silvertongue.” His fist tightens, and Loki’s head spins sickeningly. “But before I relieve you of your miserable existence, I want you to think about the offspring inside of you. I wonder how long they can survive without air?”

The babies. Feebly fighting against the black eating at the edge of his vision, Loki thinks of the twins. His poor sons, who just happened to be conceived at the wrong time, by the wrong person. He sorely wishes that these babies had been blessed to another, in some universe, some reality where they could grow up safe and happy. Then he thinks to Thor, his beloved, his brother, his soulmate. How foolish they were, to wait so long, to lie to themselves. So much needless fighting could have been spared, they could have spent so much more time being with each other. He hopes Thor does not worry too desperately after him, though he knows that’s not likely to be the case. Thor is surely set for Valhalla. Loki will look up at him from his place in Hel.

Finally, Loki turns his last fading thoughts to Noma. His daughter, the weight of his world. Loki truly believes that, however winding, the path the Norns set him on had always been leading him towards his daughter. He prays to them, if any are even left to listen, one last time. _Let Noma stay safe. Let her grow happy and healthy. Let her not mourn her mother, but know he watches her from wherever he is sent._ His sweet Noma, with a smile that outshines the stars. His sweet Noma, with wisdom and kindness far beyond her years. His sweet Noma…whose voice he can hear. Only a moment before he loses consciousness, Loki’s heart gives a weak lurch. He can hear Noma’s voice. _He can hear Noma’s voice._

The first thing Loki registers when his mind startles to attention is the gasping, hacking breath of air that he takes in. The second thing he registers is his daughter’s cries. Noma is _screaming,_ voice high and scared, shaking the very core of the earth beneath Loki’s body. He pries his sore eyes open, noting the grass beneath him, and the rich air that he’s pulling through his lungs. He’s back on Midgard.

“Noma,” He wheezes, and turns his head. Behind him stand his people, the Asgardians, all staring at him in various stages of shock and horror. At the fore of the group are Svanhild, Heimdall, and Valkyrie, with a squirming, kicking Noma grasped in the healer’s arms. Noma is fully Jötunn, indigo-flushed cheeks streaked with tears. Her eyelids are shockingly transparent against the blinding glow of her irises, still stark blue against the red-tint to her sclera.

She had felt him; Loki realizes in shock. She had felt him _dying._ Not long after Noma’s birth, Loki had cast an enchantment to link his mind to Noma’s, alert him when she was upset or angry or scared. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that the link was likely _mutual,_ that Noma with her magic could feel Loki’s emotions in return. She’s transported him to where she is. And that means…

Stomach turning painfully, Loki slowly turns and looks over his other shoulder.

Thanos is standing before him, fists clenched, chest heaving, eyes narrowed. Somehow, despite all of Loki’s planning, he’s done the one thing that he wanted to avoid. He’s led the Titan straight to his daughter, and to his people.

Noma still hasn’t stopped screaming. If anything, it grows louder, shriller, until the air around them begins to vibrate. Gathering the rest of his failing strength, Loki forces himself to stand, take each step until he stands before Svanhild, who has her eyes shut tight against the onslaught of Noma’s power. Loki reaches out and presses his palm against Noma’s cheek.

She quiets immediately, blinking up at him with her round doe-eyes. Smiling gently, Loki swipes his thumb under her eyes, collects her tears.

“Now, now, little one,” He murmurs, and carefully pulls her into his arms when she reaches for him. “There is nothing to fear.” He’s blatantly lying, but the relief racing through his veins at seeing his daughter again after so long apart negates his fear.

Having Noma in his arms again seems to reenergize Loki: he hugs her close and buries his face in her hair, just breathing her in. She still smells like _Noma:_ like atmosphere and freshly baked dough and the first snowfall of a winter. Loki has to tear his attention away from his daughter once more, tucking her close to his chest as he stands to face Thanos once more. It might be the power of the space stone, but Loki feels revitalized, ready to fight until the light drains from his eyes.

“This is certainly convenient,” Thanos says slowly, eyes leaving Loki to sweep over the Asgardians gathered behind him. Anger bubbling deep in his gut, Loki straightens.

“They are not a part of this,” He snaps, canines bared. “Your quarrel does not lie with them.”

“You made them a part of this when you failed me,” Thanos replies, flexing his hand in the gauntlet. Light shines off the two stones encased in its grip, making the Asgardians behind Loki murmur nervously. “Little silvertongue, weaver of lies. When you offered your life to me, you also offered the lives of those you cared for if you should fail.”

“Whether or not that is the case,” Loki says, taking a grounding breath. “It will be over my cold, dead body that you harm these people.”

“That can be arranged,” Thanos responds. “In fact, we were almost there before we were so rudely interrupted last time.”

A few things happen at once, then. Thanos’s fist begins to glow the purple of the power stone. Loki draws some of the space stone’s power from Noma’s body into his own. And then, there comes a great flash of light, and Loki is pushed out of the line of fire.

When Loki’s vision clears, there is a still, silver form lying broken on the ground before him. Thanos has taken a step back, obviously reeling from the force of the power that he just released. Frantic, Loki rushes forward, crashing to his knees behind the figure. With the hand that’s not holding Noma secure, he carefully rolls it over.

It’s Valkyrie. She’s bruised heavily, skin beginning to splinter purple in sickly, insidious veins. Light appears from the cracks, showing that the energy of the power stone is eating her from the inside.

“Brunhilde,” Loki breathes, throat tight. “What in the—why would you—no, no, no…”

Her voice is weak, wheezing when she speaks. “For Asgard, your majesty,” she says, the first time she has addressed Loki as such. “And for my princess.”

Noma is watching the warrior, eyes wide and shining with tears. Her mouth has formed a little “o”, and Loki is painfully aware of the fact that she knows exactly what is going on. She knows that her friend is dying.

Reaching up feebly, Brunhilde takes Loki’s hand in her own, gives a meaningful squeeze. “Protect my people,” She says. “Protect my princess.” And then she shatters, a million tiny pieces swept up and away by the soft breeze dancing across Wakanda’s plains.

Loki is still reeling, mouth ajar and eyes wide, when Noma begins to cry once more. It starts slow, soft, but builds, until the very air about them begins to vibrate with her sorrow. Loki can only wince, one hand coming up to distractedly rub at Noma’s back. He’s still staring at the spot that Brunhilde once occupied, as if this could all be some kind of cruel joke, as if she’ll reappear at any moment and slap his shoulder, tease him for being so affected.

He’s vaguely aware of someone calling his name, but it takes him a moment to tear his eyes from the singed grass in front of him. When Loki finally raises his eyes, he’s met with a glowing portal tearing the fabric of reality apart before him, and Strange is stepping out, followed by Stark and Rogers. Then, there is a crack of lightning, the smell of ozone, and Loki’s husband emerges from the portal.

He’s berserkr. Thor’s eyes are blazed pure white, electricity sparking, live and dangerous, across his body in intermittent waves. But what holds Loki’s attention are the tears tracking down Thor’s face: he’s been crying whilst he’s been raging.

“He’s been like this since you disappeared,” Rogers says, watching Thanos with a keen eye. The Titan still seems to be recovering from the energy he just unleased. “Took down a whole wave of Chitauri at once when it started. The others have it under control. Without a leader, the Chitauri are near useless.”

“And the guard?” Loki asks, standing slowly. Noma is still screaming fit to bring the sky down. Heimdall has brought some sort of shield up about the group of Asgardians behind him, and they stand, watching, frightened.

“Dead. But, Loki,” And Rogers looks to Stark, bites the inside of his cheek hard. “They got Natasha and Peter pretty badly.”

Loki stiffens, bringing Noma even closer to his side on instinct. “Peter Parker?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, voice hoarse. “Kid’s hurting pretty bad.”

“I can help them,” Loki says immediately, looks to Thanos, and then back. “I need to get back to them.”

Stark doesn’t get to answer, though, because Thor suddenly springs to life. He’s taking wide, purposeful strides across the field, not stopping until he stands in front of Loki, breathing his air.

“Thor—“ Loki starts, but is cut off by Thor’s hand on his neck, bringing him in close for a bruising kiss. Lightning bursts through Loki’s senses, and it takes him a minute of shock before he closes his eyes, slowly bringing a hand up to cup Thor’s cheek. He can feel the damp of Thor’s tears against his palm, and he thumbs them away carefully.

“Come back to me,” Loki murmurs when Thor pulls away for air. His eyes don’t lose their glow, but Thor tips his head, hand stoking down the side of Loki’s neck to rest on his shoulder. Loki knows that Thor can hear him.

“A touching family reunion,” calls a voice, and Loki suddenly remembers where he is, who he’s with. Thanos has recovered, and is now standing with Stark dangling from his gauntleted fist. He must have grabbed him while Loki was distracted.

“Enough,” Loki says levelly. “Put him down.” And the Captain is standing, frozen, as if he’s not sure what to do in this precarious situation. Stark can still breathe, hands scrabbling at the fingers holding him by the throat. The sound of metal being crushed fills the air, and the Iron Man suit won’t be able to protect Tony for much longer.

“Sentiment,” Thanos sneers, and Loki grits his teeth, mind racing for a strategy, some sort of plan. He won’t let anyone else die today. “Emotions are weakness, silvertongue. Feelings will not save you from fate.” And with that, the metal protecting Stark’s windpipe finally crumbles like parchment, and Tony makes a choked noise as his air supply is suddenly cut.

Before Loki can move, the Captain springs into action, tossing his shield straight at the Titan’s face. While Thanos is distracted, Rogers leaps up into the air, pulling a knife and sinking it into Thanos’s upper arm, causing him to reflexively loosen his fist. Stark falls to the ground just as the Captain lands again. He’s given no time to recover as Thanos swings right for his face. Loki is expecting the Captain to go flying, which is why his mouth goes slack in shock when Rogers actually _catches_ Thanos’s fist in both of his hands, holding him back.

“Oh?” Thanos asks, blood sliding down his arm and panting Rogers’s hands. “There must be something special about you, human.”

“Me? Nah,” Steve replies, jaw steeled. “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.” They stay like that for a moment, at a stale-mate. Thanos seems interested to see how long Rogers can hold him back. He doesn’t bother using his other fist, though that would likely take Rogers out easily.

“Steve,” Tony chokes out weakly, sounding terrified, and the Captain turns his head, just slightly, to the man of iron lying prone on the ground.

Thanos scoffs, voice strangely full of disappointment. “Not you, too,” He says, and the stones within the gauntlet begin to glow. Loki takes an aborted step forward. “Are all of you blinded by sentiment?” And just as Loki throws his hand out to try to bring up a shield around the Captain, Thanos releases the energy the stones have been building, and Steve goes flying backwards. He lands on the ground a few feet from Stark with a sickening _crack._

The noise Stark releases is haunting, mournful, _broken._ Next to Loki, Thor stiffens, lets out a noise between a rumble and a growl. Thunder claps overhead, and lightning strikes blinding in front of Thanos, forcing the dazed Titan to take a step backwards. Noma, from her place in Loki’s arms, cries out, and a second strike lands, knocking the Titan onto his back.

Something clicks in Loki’s mind, and he springs into action, taking one of Thor’s hands in his. Immediately, it’s like a circuit has been connected, and energy flows from Thor, through Loki, to Noma, and then back and forth in an endless loop. Loki can feel it building in his chest, can feel the fire-turned-ice magic from before surging to mingle with the rest. His sons are awake, and ready to join the battle too, if what Loki’s feeling is any indication.

_Just a while more,_ he begs of them _. Please._

When the energy within Loki is at its crest, when he feels as if he might burst with it, the Seiðrmadr closes his eyes and reaches out into the universe, calls out for something that he can feel waiting for them, something tingling on the tips of his fingers. Yggdrasil calls to him, and he grasps for it, asks the tree of life for its help, one last time. Behind his eyelids lights an amber glow, and when he opens them, the soul stone is waiting for him.

Loki knows what to do.

Carefully detaching his hand from Thor’s, Loki reaches out, hovers his hand over the stone. Before his fingers make contact, though, he looks up to meet Thanos’s eyes. The Titan is struggling to stand, watching Loki with something like horrified awe.

“You’ve trifled with the wrong family,” He says. And then he grabs the stone.

The universe halts its eternal motion for one breathtaking second. It is silent, motionless, lifeless. Colors shift and mingle until Loki can no longer see, no longer knows what is up or down or left or right. And then the inertia ends.

Power bursts from his body, like a tempest loosed, like a planet imploding. It rings in his ears and sets his vision rainbow-hued, and Loki can feel the universe, feel the lives it encapsulates. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s as if Loki is Yggdrasil itself. He can feel the universe _breathing,_ feel it sigh and shake and quiver. He can feel its will to live. He can feel its _fight._

And then it leaves him. Loki drops to his knees, head full of white noise. He sees the violet-red of the reality and power stones escaping their casings, imploding in a rainbow of light. He watches it swallow Thanos whole before winking out, reality settling still once again. His sons shift inside him. And then Loki gives in to the color at the edges of his vision, lets it take him over until all he can see is ultraviolet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who lives? Who dies? Who tells your story? I suppose you'll just have to find out...in the epilogue!
> 
> Anyways, y'all, I have tickets to see Infinity Wars on Thursday, and I am so not ready. If you're anything like me, you're going to need some fluff after watching this trainwreck, and I will certainly endeavor to deliver.
> 
> Also, there will be a little add-on separate fic in this series that covers a little Stony moment that happened while Loki was with Thanos on Titan, so look out for that at some point...;)
> 
> I will see you after Infinity Wars. May the odds be ever in our favor.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The universe has given him much, Loki muses. Far, far more than he could ever repay. As he raises his hand to call for silence in the room, he thanks the Norns one last time for all he’s been afforded. And then, with a deep inhale, Loki addresses his people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse my absence! I am now officially a college Senior (I don't like that. It's scary).
> 
> Since Infinity War tore my heart out and turned it into dust (;.;), may I offer you some happy endings in these trying times?

“I saw that.”

Jari pauses, chubby hand in the air, tiny snowball clutched tightly in his blue-tinged fingers. Behind him, Audun is sucking fervently at his thumb, opalescent eyes wide. He’s got a hand twisted in the back of his brother’s tunic.

“Hand it here,” Loki says with a not-unamused sigh, kneeling down as the eldest of his twin sons toddles over, forlornly setting the icy sphere in Loki’s palm. With a twist of his hand, the magic disappears, and Loki takes one of Jari’s little hands in his.

“What did I say about throwing snowballs at your sister?” Loki asks, glancing over to where Thor is rapidly trying to brush the snow out of Noma’s hair before it melts. It’s not doing much good.

“Mama said not to,” Jari replies quietly, and Audun pops his thumb out of his mouth to clutch his brother’s hand in his. Since birth, the two have been inseparable. As babes, they had to sleep in the same crib, otherwise each would make a terrible racket until they were reunited once more. Even now, they can’t bear being separated for more than an hour or two before they start fussing. Audun is the worst about it, the longer he spends away from Jari, the more irritable he gets, before he ends up unleashing a storm of frustrated magic and Loki has to go on damage control.

Interestingly enough, the twin who most resembles Thor in looks is also the one who inherited Loki’s knack for magic. Audun is a bright little thing, skin golden and hair a mess of wild blond curls that fall down to his shoulders. His eyes, however, are an odd sort of rainbow-white, pearlescent in shine. Audun is without sight. They’d found this out soon after Thanos had been defeated, struck from existence by the very stones he was trying to master. Knocked unconscious by the immense amount of power that had found its conductor in his body, Loki had awoken hours later to the sound of Thor’s voice and the splitting pain of his contractions beginning. Jari was born first. Pale-skinned and dark-haired like his mother, he had almost immediately blinked his carmine-red eyes up at his parents, startling them both.

“Little Jötunar princeling,” Thor had murmured fondly, reaching down to thumb lightly at the tiny bumps upon his firstborn son’s forehead, surely to become horns as the babe grew.  Jari’s wide eyes had watched Thor’s every movement, little mouth opened in awe. It was from that moment Loki knew that he’d never have a chance at making favorite parent with this one.

Audun arrived minutes later, never far behind his brother. He’d been so _quiet_ when he entered the world, so _still,_ that Loki had immediately felt his stomach drop. Jari had been born kicking and screaming, shifting so rapidly from Jötunn to Aesir form that Loki in all his post-birth stupor had to messily sling a protection spell at Svanhild’s hands. Audun, on the other hand, hadn’t made a single sound as Svanhild carefully tugged him the rest of the way from Loki’s body. The healer had taken Loki’s child from him, ignoring Loki’s cries of anguish as she turned Audun on his front, carefully but firmly rubbing and patting at his back.

After a few moments of this, Audun had coughed something fierce, before his shrill cry had joined Loki’s own. Relief washed through Loki’s veins, dizzying, and he had held his free arm out to accept the babe as Svanhild had carried him over, nestling him next to Jari on Loki’s chest.

Having already been through this once, Loki hadn’t bothered asking Svanhild to leave the room as he carefully tried to urge his sons to feed. Jari had latched almost immediately, suckling away with a voracious hunger that he had surely inherited from his father. Audun, though, was less enthusiastic. He had nosed about Loki’s breast for a while, before slumping down and letting out a distressed wail. It was almost as if he couldn’t find what he was supposed to be feeding on.

It was then that Loki noticed the eyes.

They were far-off, unfocused, lost. He had waved a hand about in front of Audun’s face, blood running cold when he realized his son would not react. Instead the babe stared blankly beyond him, at something that was unknown, unseen.

“Svanhild,” Loki had started unsteadily, and the healer was at his side in an instant, carefully lifting Audun from his arms once more. At the separation from his brother, Jari had ceased feeding and let out a tiny noise of displeasure, red eyes blinking at Loki like somehow this was all his fault.

It had been. When Svanhild had reappeared with Audun a half-hour later, she carefully shook her head, settling him back in Loki’s arms.

“Your majesties,” She murmured. “The babe is blind.”

Loki and Thor’s gasps were simultaneous, and Thor had reached down, cupping his youngest’s  cheek in his hand. Carefully thumbing over Audun’s eyelids, they watched as the babe’s face scrunched up for a moment before he opened his eyes once more.

They were the palest, lightest blue, a color Loki posited he had never seen before. From them shone all the colors of the rainbow and more; they shifted every time the babe moved his head, from every different angle.  But Svanhild had been right, it was as Loki had seen before. Audun’s eyes held no focus, no recognition. Jari was constantly looking about, taking in all that surrounded him in the new world he had been birthed into. Audun’s eyes, however, remained still, passive.

“How could this have happened?” Loki choked out, cupping Audun’s head and pulling him tight to his breast, as if he could protect his son from what had already passed.

“It could have been a number of things,” Svanhild said slowly, looking up to catch Thor’s gaze when he cleared his throat. “It could have been an entirely natural process, but…” And she hesitated, obviously seeing something on Thor’s face that gave her pause. “It is more likely it had something to do with your asphyxiation, or your weathering of energies from the stones.”

“I did this,” Loki had stated numbly, and Thor had jumped into action, coming round to Loki’s side and cupping his face in his hands.

“Beloved—“

“Thor, I did this,” Loki said, voice gaining strength. “I did this; I took sight away from our child. He will suffer because of _me,”_

“Loki, you saved this universe—“

“At what cost?”

“Are our children not alive?” And Loki looked down to the two boys nestled into his chest, sleeping side-by-side. Jari’s little hand brushed against Audun’s arm. “Have they not been born into a world free of Thanos’ terror? Will they not be loved fully and unconditionally?”

Sighing, Loki had brushed his hands over his sons’ soft heads, watching them slumber peacefully. Though Thor was right, it’d likely be an eternity more before Loki could forgive himself for this transgression.

“Are you going to tell your sister that you’re sorry?” Loki asks, unable to stop himself from running a soothing hand over Jari’s neck when he sees the beginnings of tears in those bright red eyes. He reaches out and carefully smooths his jet-black hair away from his tiny horns.

When Jari toddles over to Noma, he tugs Audun with him, holding his twin brother’s hand tight as if drawing courage from his blond-headed counterpart.

“I’m sorry, Noma,” He sniffles, and his elder sister looks upon him with kind brown eyes.

“It’s okay, Jari. Just don’t do it again please.” And she dips down to press a kiss to each of her brothers’ heads, in between their horns. “I love you.”

“We love you too,” Jari and Audun say in sync.

Their daughter is seven years old now, close to her eighth birthday, and Loki is immensely proud of her. Thor and Loki remark daily about how they could not have asked for a kinder child, a smarter child, a child with more love and mercy in her heart. She will make an exceptional queen when the time comes, though that is still millennia away.

Noma’s markings have become stronger as she’s grown, more pronounced. Particularly stark against her pale skin stand the traditional markings of Jötunn royalty, the high whorls on her forehead that are an exact match to Loki’s own. As she’s gotten older, though, Noma has begun forming her own patterns: deep waves of intelligence and empathy dance down her arms, ending in concentric rings that signify power and magic on her palms. Her adult teeth have begun to grow in, and both of her upper canines are sharply pointed, though with how often she smiles they are less of a threat than a show of happiness. Her wild blonde curls have tamed with age and the weight of her now waist-length hair, and Loki often braids it back into two rows of warriors’ plaits.

The first thing Loki had done once he’d awoken from his power-induced coma all those years ago was ask for his daughter. He was told that, apparently, after Thanos had been destroyed, the Vision’s stone had vacated his body, leaving him lifeless on the ground. They had been afraid the same might happen to Noma, so she had been taken to Stark’s labs, where Shuri and Starlord were working tirelessly to coax the stone from her body. Desperate to go to his daughter, but incapacitated by his labor pains, Loki could only hope he hadn’t used up all his favor with the universe when he asked for its help in defeating Thanos.

Noma had returned to them a few hours after her brothers’ births, a bit woozy and under the weather but entirely whole and healthy. She had perked right back up when she’d seen the babies, hopping on the cot next to Loki’s side and cooing over the little bundles. When she’d looked back up at Loki, her eyes were a familiar caramel-brown.

Overcome with joy, Thor had lifted his daughter in the air, spinning her about while she squealed in delight. Loki had hidden his tears of relief in the babies’ heads.

“How has this come to be?” He’d asked Shuri, Starlord, and a newly re-configured Vision after the tears had subsided.

“The stones took hosts because of Thanos’ threat,” Starlord had explained, carefully holding something out to Loki. He took it in his palm. “Once the threat was eliminated, they didn’t need their hosts anymore.” When Loki looked down, there was a tiny chain laying across his palm, attached to a cube-like pendant.

“This is…?” He had started, before the Vision had chimed in.

“The mind stone left my body, and we are unaware of its current location. The same goes for the reality and power stones, which have disappeared since Thanos’ defeat. The time stone remains with Strange, and the soul stone will not leave Mr. Stark’s side.” His voice had softened. “I believe the space stone wishes to remain with your daughter. It has found a perfect match in her, and wishes to lend its power to her in thanks for keeping it safe.”

The stone now resides in a pendant around Noma’s neck, though Loki had cast a glamour on it to change its form. It exists as a golden necklace, complete with a charm in the shape of a bolt of lightning which hides the stone. Noma is never without it. Thor and Loki had agreed that now that Thanos’ threat had been eliminated, there wasn’t too much harm in allowing Noma to continue to be the bearer of the stone.  It certainly helps Noma with her casting, as Loki has finally begun to formally introduce Noma to her seiðr.

The twins have to separate again so that Thor can dress Jari, who stands surprisingly well-behaved as his father fits him with his ceremonial dressings. He’s likely trying to make up for the trouble he just got himself in to. In the meantime, Loki squats down on the ground, holding his arms out.

“Audun,” He calls softly, and the younger twin turns towards the sound of his mother’s voice, eyes blinking sightlessly. “Come here, sweet boy.”

As soon as he’d been able, Loki had begun pouring over every tome on seiðr and dark magic he could get his hands on, desperate for an answer to the injustice he’d afflicted on his son. Eira had helped him begin to test spells and enchantments, and it had taken them a full two years before they had found the right combination of spells. Two years ago, under a full moon, Loki had sat down with his son in his lap and searched deep inside Audun’s being, pulling and weaving at the threads of his aura until they were inextricably bound to the roots of Yggdrasil, turning the light of Audun’s soul from a soft red to a vibrant green. When he’d finished, Audun had tipped his head, cooed softly. Though his eyes were unseeing, he had lifted a hand to Loki’s when Loki had held his own palm in front of Audun’s face.

The little one toddles over to Loki, patting his mother’s cheeks with a bright smile. Though he still prefers to let Jari lead him about, Audun is able to sense the world through his magic. It’s a hefty drain on his still-fledgling seiðr, though, so Loki tries to keep him from using it too often.

It is Jól season again. The first Jól the Asgardians will experience in their new home, the village on the outskirts of Wakanda which had been completed in the last couple months. Loki and Thor, along with the Asgardians and a team of Avengers, had been working tirelessly the entire year in order to finish in time for the celebration. The village is yet small, made up mostly of one and two-story houses with a few storefronts and a modest town square. Even the home for the royal family isn’t too extravagant: it’s moderate in size, only equipped with extra bedrooms in case of visitors or…additions to the family.

Wakanda’s king had been more than generous, not only offering the land free for their use, but also putting his technology to work in order to ensure a quick building process. Loki’s people have the latest of Shuri’s prototypes helping them about their homes: cooking tablets that heat near instantly and communication devices that allow them to chat with their neighbors without ever leaving the house. Loki himself need only inquire about the location of his children within his house and a voice will relay which rooms they currently occupy. It’s quite useful, as Audun has begun fiddling with transportation magic to get himself around without Jari’s help.

Carefully tying the ribbon around Audun’s waist, Loki sits back. Both of his boys are dressed exactly the same: gold-and-silver tunics with a smart pair of black trousers. Thor is particularly fond of dressing them similarly, though Loki had given him a look.

“We won’t be able to do that forever, you know,” He’d said. “They’ll start resenting us for it eventually.”

“I think you underestimate how well our sons get along,” Thor had replied. “Let us see what they choose when they are old enough to dress themselves.”

Loki had snorted.

Noma is wearing ceremonial Valkyrie armor that she had chosen herself, quite fond of it after the enthralling tales her father had told her about the woman who had worn it last. Though she and Brunhilde had been the best of friends in her youth, Noma was far too young to remember anything besides a foggy recollection of what the woman looked like. Loki and Thor have been dedicated to making sure that their daughter remembers the woman who gave her life for Noma. The white Pegasus that Valkyrie had given Noma when she was just a babe now sits, well-worn and loved, on a shelf above Noma’s bed.

With a snap of his fingers, Loki traces white runes onto Noma’s cheeks, the same that Brunhilde had worn all those years ago. Noma looks up and him and giggles, letting Loki heft her into his arms and press a kiss to her forehead.

Today will be the first day that Noma will introduce herself to the court, made up of Heimdall and the Asgardians that had been elected by their peers whilst they were still floating on the Ark. Normally, they would wait until she was ten or eleven, but Noma is particularly articulate and had asked for this honor specifically. After talking about it at length, Loki and Thor had agreed that Noma was ready to do so. She’s terribly bright for her age, preferring now to converse with the adults rather than the children of her age (save Nathaniel, who is still her closest friend and confidant). Loki finds it particularly amusing when Noma breaks into conversation about quantum physics or ancient Asgardian history with one of the adults, leaving her conversational partner stunned.

There is a second announcement to be made, today, an announcement similar to the one that was made at their first Jól celebration on another new home. Thor comes up behind Loki, wraps his arms round his waist and presses a kiss to his temple. Smiling, Loki joins his hands with Thor’s, which are resting gently on the barely-there bump of his stomach.

He’s pregnant once again. After the birth of the twins, Loki had recast his conception spell, made Thor swear up and down that he wouldn’t ask for another for at least two years. And Thor had kept his word: he had waited three before sliding up behind Loki one day, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“The boys get along so well,” He’d murmured, pressing a kiss to Loki’s temple. Loki had hummed, watching as his sons sat together, building sand-piles between their outstretched legs. Noma was off by herself at the edge of the field, spelling flowers to grow. This would be the plot of land that their home would stand on not a year later.

“Don’t you think that Noma could use a companion?”

Loki had leaned into the kiss Thor had brushed against his neck, sighing softly. “Nathaniel is with Laura and Clint in New York,” He’d drowsed, before his brain had caught up with what Thor had said. Turning his head a bit, Loki had smirked.

“Unless you weren’t talking about Nathaniel.”

Thor had simply laughed and pulled Loki into a kiss.

He is two months along now, still far too early to know the gender, though Noma had looked at him when they’d told her about the pregnancy and said “sister” with a finality that had Loki convinced. They’d managed to keep it quiet from everyone except for Svanhild, as they had been hoping for an announcement that they finally had control over, for once.

The Avengers should be arriving soon. They had, of course, been invited to the festivities. After all, a fair few of them had been instrumental in building the Asgardians’ new home. Stark himself had even shown up a few times, though he was never far from the Captain’s side. The man had been steadily recovering from his final face-off with Thanos, which had left him with a broken back and years of recovery ahead of him. It is just now, four years later, that Rogers has begun to be able to walk on his own. Stark had developed a pair of bionic leg bracers, similar to the ones Rhodey wears, for the Captain, but Steve had turned them down.

“I want to be able to rely on myself,” he’d said, giving Tony’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Speaking of those two, something must have happened between them during the battle with Thanos, because they are now both inseparable and insufferable. There are not many moments when they are together where they are not holding hands or leaning upon each other and murmuring soft affections. Loki might be a bit of a hypocrite in saying this, though.

The first to bound off the quinjet and into Loki’s arms is young Peter Parker, dressed in a collegiate hoodie and a pair of jeans and looking quite enthusiastic. He hasn’t seen the new Asgard yet, having been away at a prestigious college (arranged by Stark, of course), to pursue a double degree in photography and mechanical engineering. Loki hasn’t seen him in three years, and he grins as he accepts the leaping hug that Peter bestows upon him.

“Mr. Loki!” He crows, burying his face in Loki’s neck and squeezing him so tight that Loki fears he may have to break news of the pregnancy early in order to save the babe. Peter releases him at the last moment, though, beaming up at him with his wide, brown eyes alight.

“Spider-child,” Loki greets, ruffling Peter’s hair. He’s grown a few inches since Loki has seen him last. “You look well. Full of knowledge.”

“I just finished my finals for this semester,” Peter responds, rubbing a hand over his forehead as if wiping off sweat. It draws Loki’s attention to the now-faint scar that runs parallel to his brow: where Proxima Midnight had almost delivered a fatal blow all those years ago.

Loki, delirious with post-birth and running on empty, had limped his way to where Peter and Natasha were being held. He’d collapsed on the ground next to their make-shift cots, barely having enough energy to bat Mantis and Wanda away from where they were fussing over the figures bleeding red against the stark-white sheets.

“Didn’t you just give _birth?”_ Bucky had exclaimed from where he was rooting around in a medical kit.

“Why yes, I did. The babies are fine, thanks for asking,” Loki had snapped, short on both consciousness and patience. He’d passed his hands over Peter’s body, moving to make room for Svanhild and her group of healers as they appeared in the doorway.

“Internal hemorrhaging,” He’d announced succinctly, already using what little seiðr he had left to carefully curb the blood flowing in Peter’s cranium, rerouting it until it began to run in the right direction once more. At that, the boy had shifted and given a soft groan, and Loki had carefully pressed a thumb to his temple, feeding him soft and gentle dreams until he quieted. Across from him, Svanhild and Astrid had already begun work on Natasha.

“Several cracked ribs,” The head healer murmured, carefully moving around the Widow’s body to search for more injuries. “Broken leg, lots of internal bruising…but she should make a full recovery.”

Speaking of the Widow, she is next off of the quinjet, holding Nathaniel on her hip as Lila and Cooper run about at her feet. Clint and Laura follow closely, laughing at their children’s shenanigans.

“They’re beautiful,” Laura murmurs as she looks over Jari and Audun, who are now frolicking about with their sister and Nathaniel. This is the first time she’s met the twins.

“Thank you,” Loki replies, offering a hug. When Laura returns it, though, she pulls back a bit to look him in the eyes. The smirk upon her face is knowing.

Loki lowers his voice. “We’re announcing it this evening. Keep it quiet until then?”

“Of course, of course,” Laura responds, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Congratulations.”

They spend the better end of an hour greeting their other guests: Sam and Rhodey, who approach and then subsequently leave together, walking so close that their shoulders are bumping. Loki casts an interested glance after them as they leave, catching Thor’s eye and giving him a smirk.

Bruce and Bucky wander over after a while, having been taking a tour of the village led by Heimdall. Notably absent are Tony and Steve, who, if Loki remembers correctly, had also asked to be taken on the tour.

“I can’t be around them for more than a half hour now,” Bruce responds when Loki asks about the couple’s whereabouts.

“Tell me about it. It’s always some cheesy one-liner, then ‘shut up, Steve,’ then ‘why don’t you make me’,” Bucky grouches, though there is a hint of amusement to his voice. A few months ago, over a generous mug of mead, Bucky had confided to Loki that he was relieved that Steve had found someone, even if Bucky himself wasn’t Tony’s biggest fan. He had been afraid that Steve would be pining over what had passed forever. (“You sound like you have some experience with ‘what has passed’ yourself,” Loki had intoned over his mug, scanning the soldier’s face closely. “Yeah, I have,” Bucky had muttered. Loki had thought it best not to pursue the topic any further.)

The couple of the hour does reappear a few minutes later, linked at the hip as always and laughing over some private joke. Loki crosses his arms and affixes Tony with his best icy glare.

“Whose house?” He asks, and Tony shifts from foot to foot, glances up at Steve.

“I don’t know what you’re—“

“Whose house?” Loki asks again, and Steve shrugs helplessly, looks back down at Tony with a barely-restrained grin.

“It wasn’t yours, okay?” Tony defends, hand subconsciously rubbing at a suspiciously-red spot on the side of his neck. “At least, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.”

“Remind me to make an announcement to everyone to wash their sheets,” Loki mutters to Thor, whose face splits into a wide grin.

“Congratulations on the sex!” He crows, patting Steve heartily on the shoulder. Tony looks between them, cheeks going pink in indignation.

“I had a part in it too, you know.”

“Did you?” Thor asks, just a hint of teasing to his voice, and Stark’s mouth drops open.

“Yeah, Tony, did you?” Steve parrots, and Loki doesn’t think he’s seen Stark’s face this red before.

“Well I certainly won’t have any part in it next time,” He snaps, arms crossed tight over his chest. “You’ll just have to talk to your left hand about that.” And he marches off, back ram-rod straight.

“Come on, Tony, don’t be that way!” Steve laughs, jogging after him, but Stark won’t turn around.

“Talk to the hand, Rogers.”

Other than T’Challa and Shuri, who will be meeting them later on in the evening, this will be the extent of their guests for the night. Wanda and the Vision have chosen to go on hiatus from their Avengers membership to spend more time together. Last time Loki heard from Wanda, she was in Prague. The Guardians have also chosen to go their separate way, having left soon after Thanos was defeated (“We’re the Guardians of the _Galaxy_ ,” Starlord had pointed out. “Can’t go picking favorite planets.”)

The feast is to be held in Asgard’s newly-minted Heorot, made of study Wakandan wood and lined down the entire floor with long feasting-tables. The cooks have been working day and night over the past week to prepare the most epic meal in Asgard’s history. Loki had tried to lend a hand, but he’d quickly learned that his culinary capabilities hit a hard stop after potions making (there may or may not have been a fire. A small, easily containable fire).

Noma enters first, by herself. Thor and Loki stand at the doors with a son each tucked to their chests, watching their daughter stand before her people. She approaches the head table, where Heimdall and the council sit, assessing their princess with warm gazes.

“Asgardians,” Noma announces, and Loki’s heart gives a tug. Her small voice sounds so noble, so full of love for her people. “Chosen of the court. I present myself to you humbly. My given name is Noma Lokidóttir, daughter of thunder and winter incarnate, Spaceborn.” And they’d rehearsed this speech with Noma thousands of times, choosing to add her secondary title, both reflecting her birth upon the ark and her mastery of the space stone. “I stand before you your humble attendant, and offer to you my undying fidelity should you choose to accept me, when the time comes, as your servant ruler.”

The room is silent for a moment, and Loki’s breath sticks in his throat. It’s ridiculous, as he knows these people adore Noma, would never deny her her birthright. But he feels for his daughter, sees the little shake to her hands as Heimdall slowly rises from his seat. Loki himself had never had to introduce himself to the court, as Thor had always been the unchallenged heir. He can’t imagine it’s a particularly easy feat, though.

“Noma Lokidóttir,” Heimdall addresses in his droning timbre. “Daughter of thunder and winter incarnate, born to and of space,” and he drops to his knee in front of Noma. Loki and his daughter let out a held-in breath simultaneously. “Your people welcome you to your court.”

The room bursts into deafening applause, Asgardian and Avenger alike standing and cheering for the shaking little seven-year-old who stands before them. Loki aches to race to his daughter, to lift her up into his arms and tell her how proud he is, but he must wait until he is invited.

When Noma raises a hand, the room goes silent. Her smile is as bright as the sun and just as wide. “My thanks to you, high advisor of the court, and to my people.” Then, she turns to her family behind her, and Loki can barely hold back the tears in his eyes. “May I present to you my mother and father, and my brothers, the royal family of Asgard.”

Loki can hold himself back no longer. He sets Jari carefully on the ground before he runs to his daughter, scooping her up into his arms. The crowd breaks into applause once again as Loki hugs Noma tight, planting enthusiastic kisses all over her cheeks.

“You were brilliant, Noma,” He praises. “Utterly brilliant. Your people love you dearly, and will be lucky to have you as their queen.”

Noma is giggling, tears streaking down her cheeks. The adrenaline has obviously peaked. “Thank you, mother,” She says, wrapping her arms tight around Loki’s neck and burying her face in his tunic. He holds her close, savoring the moment. It is not often that he can hold his daughter this way. She is growing stronger and wiser and older each minute, and sometimes Loki fears she’ll be grown the next time he blinks his eyes.

“Noma,” He murmurs into her hair, heart as full as it’s ever been. “I am so, so, immensely proud of you.”

When Noma’s brown eyes meet Loki’s, they simultaneously burst into tears. Loki presses their foreheads together and laughs wetly, letting Noma nuzzle their noses against each other.

Thor arrives at their side not long after, toting both twins on his shoulders. The boys are clamoring at their sister while Thor smiles at his husband and daughter warmly, cupping their cheeks in his hands and wiping at the tears.

“Now, now, you two,” He chides jokingly, leaning down to press a kiss to both of their foreheads. “I think it’s my turn with the future queen of Asgard, is it not?”

Loki takes one more moment to hug Noma close before carefully setting her down, accepting the twins from Thor’s arms as he takes Noma’s hand in his. Now that she’s formally introduced herself to court, Thor is to take her off to speak to her of the secrets that only first-born rulers can know. Of course, he’d told Loki about them long ago. They’d wanted to make sure Thor was passing down knowledge that would benefit Noma and Asgard as they grew together, rather than stale old traditions that would only hurt their development.

“How did such a mature little lady come out of you and his majesty?” Svanhild jokes as Loki settles down at his spot at the head table, sending Jari and Audun off to play with the other children about the fire. Loki snorts and gives her a soft elbow to the ribs, starting in on his plate.

“A miracle, that,” He jokes back, tearing into his first mutton leg of the night. When he goes to take a sip of his goblet, he notes that Svanhild has already exchanged his mead out for water. She winks at him.

The feasting starts in earnest when Thor reappears, Noma riding on his shoulders and squealing happily as Thor thrusts his mug in the air, jovial as Loki’s ever seen him.

“To Noma!” He proclaims, and the people raise their drinks.

“To Noma!” They repeat, and Loki’s daughter grins all over again.

“To Asgard!” She declares, and her people cheer.

“To Asgard!”

It doesn’t take long for most of the crowd to get tipsy. The humans go first, despite Loki’s multiple suggestions that they might want to bring some of their own alcohol.

“What are you calling us, pansies?” Clint had asked, and Tony had approached to link arms with him.

“Yeah, we survived the end of the world. I think we can handle a little Asgardian booze.”

“How’s that going for you?” Loki asks as he rubs Tony’s back while the man is leant over a flower pot.

“Shut up, I hate you,” is Stark’s intelligent response.

Rogers actually holds his mead fairly well, an attribute for which Loki credits the serum. He manages to keep up with Thor for the first few pints, only tapping out when they hit their sixth.

“Is this what being drunk feels like?” He asks Natasha, who bursts into laughter and smacks him on the back.

“Come with me. There’s no way I’m letting this opportunity slip by without taking a few pictures.”

Multiple times during the night, Loki catches Thor trying to slip Peter a mug of ale. And multiple times, Loki has to take it from him and waggle his finger at Thor.

“Peter is not of drinking age,” He says patiently, while the Spider-child sulks behind him.

“I’m nineteen!” Peter protests, and Loki spins on his heel to affix the teenager with an unamused look.

“Which means you have another two years before you may legally consume alcohol.”

“The drinking age is eighteen in Wakanda!” Shuri calls from her table across from them, already having downed a pint and a half. She’s holding it surprisingly well.

“Why does Shuri get to drink but not me? We’re practically the same age.” And Peter’s brown eyes go wide and shining, the same look Noma takes on when she’s trying to convince Loki to let her eat her dessert before dinner. Loki looks to him, and to Thor, and back again, before he sighs.

“One,” He says, holding up a finger for emphasis, and Peter’s face splits into a grin.

“Thank you, Mr. Loki!” He crows, taking the mug from Loki’s hands. As he walks away, Loki twists his fingers, mutters under his breath. The mead in Peter’s mug turns to human beer, instead.

“I saw that,” Thor jokes, stepping closer to wrap an arm around Loki’s waist.

“He’s still a child,” Loki defends, leaning against him.

Loki decides it’s time for the announcement halfway through the night, when most of the room is suitably inebriated but not yet entirely gone (that is, except for the Captain, who is fast asleep against one of the tables. He’d obviously gotten a little over-enthusiastic).

Thor’s hand in one of his, Noma’s hand in the other, Loki beckons his sons as he approaches the front of the room. He can’t help but think back to this time, eight years ago, when a similar announcement had been made about Noma’s forthcoming. Of course, it had been under quite different circumstances: for one, Valkyrie had made the announcement. Loki glances at his daughter, hair back in warriors’ braids and dressed in shining silver armor, and marvels at how far they’ve come. There was a time when he’d sworn to the Norns that the warrior would never come near his daughter. Now, he hopes, her memory will live on within his daughter’s heart.

Similarly, now, as Loki takes his place in front of his people, he does so as their queen. He has grown with these people, loved with these people, lost with these people. Seen them welcome new babes into the world, and helped them send the old off into the halls of Valhalla. He’s dug in the dirt with these people, grasped their new home by the roots and watched it grow and flourish under the Midgardian sun. These are the people who have seen him, watched him grow, watch him suffer and destroy. These are the people who have forgiven him regardless, given him a place to rest and to belong. These are _his_ people.

Loki’s road has been long and winding, full of mistakes and successes alike. It seems like an eternity ago that Loki stared up at Thor from the edge of the Bifrost, soon to let go and end the idyllic frolicking of their youth. An eternity ago that Loki would wake, bruised and bloodied, staring up at the being who would soon bring more pain upon Loki’s person than he had ever known. It even seems so long ago that Loki asked for help from the universe to save what he loved most, and it gave, and it _gave,_ until it could give no more.

The universe has given him much, Loki muses. Far, far more than he could ever repay. As he raises his hand to call for silence in the room, he thanks the Norns one last time for all he’s been afforded. And then, with a deep inhale, Loki addresses his people.

All is well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...it's over.
> 
> Holy moly people, it's over.
> 
> What can I even say? I never expected this little plot bunny I had after Ragnarök to turn into a 100,000-word series. Honestly, HMTOD's first chapter was meant to be a one-shot, and then you all just had such wonderful responses and I...just...kept...writing.
> 
> THANK YOU.
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thanks to every single one of you who left kudos, or commented, or even just read this series. You are the reason I write. I love hearing what you think and getting to know you and talk with you and brainstorm ideas together with you. I am so glad that I began to publish my works, because it meant that I got to meet all of you. All of you wonderful, kind, patient, creative, fantastic people!
> 
> I do have another series in the works, but it could be a little while before it begins. If you like Jötunn prince!Loki, I suggest you keep an eye out ;) To get updates about my works, or to just stop by and say hello, please head on over to tegary.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
